


Surprise On Our Side

by quare_id_faciam



Category: Master and Commander - All Media Types, Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gen, Had the sudden desire to write a period fic, Period Typical Attitudes, This is my garbage project, Yes it's a time travel fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:15:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22622389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quare_id_faciam/pseuds/quare_id_faciam
Summary: Andromeda Price is on vacation when her plane crashes into the ocean. She somehow manages to survive and ends up being rescued by the HMS Surprise. Her first priority is surviving in this strange time and her second is trying to figure out how the hell to get back home, but there's just something about the green eyed coxswain that makes her want the impossible.
Relationships: Barrett Bonden/Original Female Character
Comments: 12
Kudos: 37





	1. The Crash

**Author's Note:**

> This is a garbage fic for my own entertainment. Please excuse any period atypical language or manners or naval inconsistencies and try not to take it too seriously!

Of all the ways a person could meet their end of unnatural causes, crashing into the ocean just halfway into her very first solo plane ride was near the bottom of Andromeda Price’s list of worries. Hit by a car, certainly. Struck by lightning; less likely but still up there. Murdered in the street? Perhaps the most irrational, but still not completely unlikely. How unfortunate, then, that the first time Andromeda allowed herself to be talked into boarding a plane on her own she should find herself but 5 hours later hugging her backpack tightly to her chest and praying to any deity listening that the plane might suddenly right itself from its gradual dive toward the ocean below.

Some of the passengers around her were screaming or praying aloud; some were frantically trying to call those they left behind, and many were weeping. Fear turned Andromeda’s limbs to stone and she could not persuade her body to move an inch even if she wished to. She remained frozen, hunched over in her seat, white knuckled and trembling.

The plane shook and rattled as it hastened downwards; several overhead compartments burst open, expelling their contents onto passengers below with a bang. A piercing scream rang out above the din, and then the world seemed to explode around her. A jolt, then another; the seatbelt cut into her hips and her head smacked into her knee as she jerked forward, bag slipping between her feet. A strange, grating noise came from behind her and, as she sat stunned by the impact, water rushed around her ankles. 

Andromeda’s ears rang loudly and she could feel warmth trickling down over her lips, tasting of metal. Water rushed in around her, rising higher as the plane listed to the side. With trembling hands, she scrambled to unfasten her seatbelt, fumbling several times before finally escaping her seat. She wobbled, unsteady on her feet, fingers clasping the strap of her bag like a lifeline as it floated up on the water that was now past her knees. She shrugged it onto her back to get it out of the way.

Holding on to the seat for balance, Andromeda stood fully upright and was finally able to see over the seats in front of her. Several people floundered in the aisles ahead of her, shouting and screaming for help that would not come. Lights flickered around them, casting eerie shadows on the rising water that continued to rush in as the nose of the plane tipped downwards. A fearful glance behind her showed Andromeda that the rear of the plane, just five rows behind her, was completely gone. The water was up to her chest now, roaring and bubbling around her, threatening to sweep her down into the bowels of the plane below. 

With limbs that felt like lead, Andromeda struggled to turn and face the rear of the plane, towards the light above her that mixed with the water below. As her legs started to lift from the floor, she flailed, gripping the back of her seat and planting her shoes against the back of the seat behind her. Her breath came in fast pants, chanting curses in between entreatments to some god that she knew was not listening. Her body screamed at her to  _ escape, escape, escape _ , but her rationality told her she would never make it out past the water rushing in. The thought filled her with terror but she knew her only chance of survival was to wait until the entire plane, or what was left of it, was under water. 

As the water rose up around her shoulders, Andromeda felt tears spilling over her cheeks. Only her force of will kept the sobs in her chest as her feet almost lifted from their brace beneath her. The water rushing in threatened again to push her down but her white knuckled grip on the back of her seat kept her from being swept to the bottom of the plane. She had just enough time to take a deep breath before the water swirled above her head and towards the jagged metal only a few rows away. 

The salt water stung her eyes but Andromeda forced herself to keep them open and fixed upon the raging tide above her. She felt the beginning of a burn start in her lungs and the swells of panic threatened to overcome her. Only the light filtering in from above kept her sane enough to hold steady. The morning sunlight was blessedly bright enough to illuminate her way to freedom.

Finally, after what seemed like ages the water pressure around her stabilized and her feet floated free of the seat beneath her. Andromeda lost no time and kicked hard toward the surface that was steadily moving away from her. Her lungs burned and she felt as if she were being dragged down by a dead weight. She flailed and kicked harder and pulled just even of the back of the plane, but the surface was still several meters away. 

Her head felt fuzzy and her lungs almost felt as if they were collapsing. Her progress upward slowed until she was almost at a standstill, legs jerking tiredly beneath her. Sunlight twinkled red-orange off the waves somewhere above her, taunting her, but her strength was sapped. Her chest ached like nothing she had ever felt before and her vision was beginning to go grey around the edges when she decided she wasn’t going to make it and had better just give up, hadn’t she?

She was about to give in at last to the encroaching darkness when a toggle on a wire floated up and tapped her on the chin. Dizzy, it took her a moment to realize with a start that she was still wearing the uninflated life preserver all of the passengers had thrown on as soon as the plane started dropping from the sky. Desperate and running out of time, she took the toggle in hand and tugged, praying that it would inflate properly. 

A jerk; her vision went black.


	2. Man Overboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda is rescued!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The unconsciousness Andromeda suffers is ascent blackout, caused by changing pressure on the lungs.

Andromeda woke with a start, gasping in shock and drawing in a sucking breath. Waves lapped gently around her as she bobbed up and down in time. The sun, while hanging low in the sky, was enough to show her that she was floating in clear, calm water. The only sounds she could hear around her came from the ocean’s waves, and there was no land in her field of sight. 

Exhausted, Andromeda became dimly aware that the weight that had been dragging her down in her escape to the surface had been her backpack, still hanging from her shoulders. Head resting back against her blessedly firm life preserver, she closed her eyes and let out a hollow, barking laugh. Her unconscious preservation of the only belongings she had with her had almost killed her, and would have if the life vest had not inflated. 

“Stupid,” she scolded herself through lips coated with salt. 

She remained, eyes closed against the reddish hues of the sunlight for another moment before finally pulling her thoughts together. Perhaps there were other survivors, or some debris she could find to make her position easier to locate by the rescue crews that were sure to be on their way, although it would likely take them some hours to arrive. She opened her eyes with a sigh.

“Hello?” she called, treading water with wearied limbs to pull herself more upright. There was not a soul in sight, nor any of the typical debris one might expect to mark a plane’s demise. As far as she could see, there was no oil slick or fuel marking the surface of the waves, no metal or plastic or foam, and certainly no other passengers. 

Andromeda felt as though a stone had dropped into her stomach. She was alone in the vast emptiness of the ocean. While it was possible to ignore during her fight for survival, her fear, now exponentially more reasonable considering she was floating unprotected in very deep water, bubbled to the forefront of her mind and made panic bloom hot in her chest. 

While she was not afraid of the ocean itself (so long as she was safely aboard a boat or other reliable vessel, or even paddling in the shallows), she was afraid of deep water and all the terrors it held. Shipwrecks made her skin crawl, sharks chilled her blood, and the thought of floating adrift with no knowledge of what lurked around and below her made her chest tighten and tears prick at her eyes. With the sun setting and darkness encroaching, the nightmare was made complete. It took every ounce of her willpower not to give in to the panic that welled within her. Still, she allowed herself a moment to cry out her dismay until she had no tears left.

She floated, weary and chilled to the bone, for endless hours. While she did not have the energy to draw her knees to her chest to keep them moderately more protected from the abyss below her, her arms were tucked close to her body, cold hands clutching the life vest in earnest. 

She listened for any sound other than the waves that might indicate her impending rescue, but had long given up on keeping her eyes open. She had been fighting the urge to sleep for several hours, jolting awake every time she nodded off, but the exhaustion eventually became too much to bear and she slipped into unconsciousness several hours before dawn. 

So deeply unconscious was Andromeda that she never heard the distant ringing of bells, nor the shouts of alarm as twilight brightened the sky and revealed her to sharp eyes. Though the light was yet grey and the sea shrouded in mist, she was nevertheless spotted and a rowboat promptly launched to bring her aboard. She did not once wake even as she was pulled into the boat, nor as she was then handed off to those waiting on the ship’s deck and laid gently on the worn planks. 

She only awoke, sore and still weary, several hours later in sort of cabin, covered in several worn blankets with another cushioning her head as she laid on what could only have been a table. She could hear distant shouts and the creak of timber; gentle rocking confirmed that she was aboard a ship. She relaxed immediately, breath escaping her in a relieved sigh. 

Rescued, at last. 

_ Some Hours Earlier _

It was just past two bells of the morning watch when the shout rang out across the ship.

“Man overboard!”

The previously calm deck came alive with a flurry of activity. The officer of the watch took charge after only a slight hesitation, ordering a rowboat away when the figure in the water made no movement or reply to acknowledge their calls. A midshipman was sent to rouse the captain and the surgeon, who arrived on deck just as the rowboat reached the lonely figure. One of the men in the rescue party called back to those on deck but he was too far away to be heard clearly.

“Are there any others Mr. Hollom?” asked the Captain as he reached the officer of the watch. The man saluted sharply. 

“No sir,” he replied. “Just the one. No wreckage to indicate a shipwreck that we can see, but there’s no telling how long he’s been drifting.”

Both men kept their eyes on the rapidly approaching rowboat but the surgeon turned towards the midshipman who had fetched them to the deck.

“Lord Blakeney, would you be so kind as to direct Mr. Higgins to prepare the sick bay in the event that it is needed this morning.”

The young midshipman saluted quickly and disappeared back below decks to do as directed. By that time, the boat had reached the ship and was in the process of being hauled up by efficient hands. Those on deck who were not stuck at their posts crowded around, curious to see who had been pulled from the water, and whether they were alive or dead.

When the occupants of the boat came level with the deck, the surgeon pushed forward towards the lifeless form being passed up to waiting hands just as murmurs began to ripple through the crowd hanging back. Dark hair hung, tangled and dripping, from the head that lolled upon limp shoulders as the castaway was gently lowered to the deck, a sodden satchel of odd design placed beside them. Kneeling, the surgeon turned their face towards him and as he did so, the damp hair fell away, revealing the shocking truth.

“Jack,” he called in alarm, glancing over his shoulder at the Captain who was hanging back a couple paces. “It’s a woman!”

The murmurs from the crowd grew louder and it would only be a matter of time before the news spread throughout the rest of the ship. The Captain frowned, moving forward for a closer look over the surgeon’s shoulder. 

“Does she live?” he asked quietly, glancing around at the crew who were all vying for a peek at the woman who came from the sea. As the surgeon pulled a small mirror from his pocket and held it near the woman’s lips to check for breath, the Captain turned to the curious spectators and roared “Back to your stations! His Majesty isn’t paying you lot to dawdle around when there’s work to be done!”

The men, although reluctant to leave the spectacle, fell back upon their discipline and returned to their posts, counting on scuttlebutt to fill them in on whatever was to happen though still craning for a glimpse of the events unfolding. 

“Padeen!” The surgeon called from beside the woman, becking the tall loblolly boy who had until then been hanging back with young Lord Blakeney, who had returned at some point while they had been attending to the woman. “Padeen, bring her below immediately!”

As the man lifted the limp figure into his arms and turned to bring her to the sick bay, the surgeon turned back to the captain.

“She’s alive,” he said, tucking the small mirror back into his pocket. “Chilled and likely injured, but I will not be able to ascertain how badly until I can examine her.”

The Captain nodded curtly.

“Very good. Alert me if anything changes. We’ll keep a sharp eye for others; she can’t have been out here alone.”

They parted ways; the Captain heading for the helm and the surgeon to his sick bay, but not before retrieving the satchel that was rescued with the woman. Although the doctor’s main concern was for his newly acquired patient, he could not stem his curiosity regarding the strange contraption around the woman’s neck. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before and he was determined to know it’s origin. Something was not quite right.


	3. She Wakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda wakes in the sickbay but something is amiss.

In the sick bay, the woman was laid gently upon the operating table and her satchel on the floor below. Although lit only by lanterns, it was a good deal brighter than the foggy twilight above deck and allowed the doctor to see more clearly just what was so odd about his patient. 

Strange yellow contraption aside, she was wearing trousers! A sturdy looking blue material encased her legs from waist to ankle and her feet were clad in leather boots laced up several inches past the hem of the trousers. The boots were of an odd fashion for a woman but certainly not the strangest thing about her. 

Her torso was covered with a thin white undershirt and a red overshirt decorated in a plaid pattern. Dark hair hung loose and limp around her face, which was ghostly pale. Bruising around the bridge of her nose and just underneath her eyes colored the skin there purple-blue; slight swelling indicated some sort of injury to her face. A gentle investigation showed that her nose was not broken, but it had been injured enough to bleed heavily. The evidence remained in faded streaks down her neck and was still crusted upon her upper lip and nostrils.

After struggling with the strange yellow device around her neck and shoulders, the doctor opted to cut the belt holding it securely to her rather than waste more time finding a way to unfasten it. The oddity was gently lifted over her head and set aside for later examination before the doctor and his assistant peeled the damp overshirt away, revealing red abrasions on her shoulders that stood out starkly from the skin around them. Not only that, but…

“Are those tattoos, Doctor?” asked the shocked assistant. 

Sure enough, sketchy lines of black and pink ink curled around one shoulder and upper arm and were just visible on the other, disappearing beneath her. 

“It would appear so,” the doctor murmured, frowning over his spectacles at the lines for a moment before casting his attention down the length of the woman’s body. “There are more important matters to attend now, Higgins. Fetch a blanket, we’ll have to cut away the trousers to ensure she hasn’t suffered any significant wounds to her abdomen or legs.”

The nervous looking man blushed and immediately turned to do as he was bid, prepared to cover the young woman at the doctor’s order. Deft hands swiftly removed the sodden boots and the short stockings within before cutting along the seams of each trouser leg from waist to ankle. A nod, and then a woollen blanket settled over the woman from the chest down as the ruined trousers were carefully slid from underneath her and discarded onto the floor.

Hardly phased at this point by the oddly small undergarments, the doctor raised the blanket carefully to examine first her abdomen and then her legs. Aside from a nasty looking bruise, uniformly about three inches wide that spanned from hip to hip, there were no other apparent injuries. He gently probed the woman’s ribcage and collarbone and tested the joints of her elbows, wrists, and ankles to ensure there were no broken bones and, once satisfied that there were none, instructed Higgins to cover her with heavier blankets to warm her.

Lastly, the doctor took her head gently in both hands, palpitating to check for any fractures of the skull or swelling that would indicate an injury. As his fingers moved towards her ears, they brushed cold metal, causing him to frown. Careful hands brushed the dark hair away from her left ear to investigate and he could not restrain the noise of surprise the sight drew from him. Metal pierced her ear in several places, and was that a metal bar spanning the shell? Pierced ears were not in and of themselves unusual, but this was something new entirely! A quick investigation of her other ear revealed much the same. 

“Who are you?” the doctor muttered to himself, frowning down at the unconscious woman. 

He cast his eye to the sodden satchel resting on the floor beneath the table in a small puddle of seawater, and then to the strange yellow device that had been around the woman’s neck. Perhaps further investigation would lead to some answers about the identity of their newest passenger and where she came from.

* * *

Andromeda felt weak and unsteady as if she had just completed a strenuous workout, which, she supposed, she sort of had. She took a mental inventory of her aches and pains: nose faintly throbbing, muscles aching, and the bruise on her hips hurt with every little movement. But, she reminded herself as she struggled to sit up on her elbows, she was alive and she was out of the ocean. What Andromeda was not expecting, however, was for the blanket that covered her, slipping as she sat up, to reveal her state of undress. A moment of panic overcame her for a fleeting second before she rationalized that her clothes were likely removed to dry and warm her after her stint in the ocean, and perhaps to check for injuries. Whoever had rescued her surely had a trained medical professional aboard who had looked after her. 

A quick glance around what she assumed to be a sickbay, however, only left her confused and the anxiety returned full force. Instead of a bright and sterile clinic, Andromeda found herself baffled by the dim lighting, from lanterns no less, and the rustic wooden beams and planking that had been whitewashed. She took in the sight of hammocks swinging lazily nearby and the staircase that must surely lead to an upper deck, from which she could hear faint calls and shouting. If she didn’t know any better, she would say that she appeared to be on some sort of 18th or 19th century sailing vessel.

Feeling no less confused than before, Andromeda rationalized that perhaps she was aboard a reenacting ship. She had seen similar before in London and Virginia; that must surely be the reason for her odd surroundings; there was no other rational explanation. She had little time to convince herself, however, because the thick canvas hanging from the far end of the cabin was pushed aside and a tall, thin man in period dress ducked inside, stopping short when he noticed her sitting up.

“Ah, you’re awake!” he exclaimed as he approached her. Andromeda noticed his British accent, which made her wonder if this was a ship from England. “How are you feeling?”

Andromeda shifted to clutch the scratchy blanket closer to her chest, only too aware that she was wearing only a cami and panties in front of a complete stranger. 

“Sore,” she croaked at last, past a dry throat. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

The man blinked at her for a moment before replying.

“You were unconscious when we found you. Judging by the bruising on your abdomen and the injury to your nose, it appears you must have been caught in quite some accident.”

Suddenly reminded of her throbbing nose, Andromeda gingerly brought a hand up to touch the swollen skin.

“It’s not broken, is it?” she asked the man, who she guessed was the one who had taken care of her. He shook his head, still regarding her with a look she couldn’t quite place. 

“I do apologize for the state of undress you find yourself in,” he said after a moment, seeming genuinely concerned for her situation. “I assure you on my honor that nothing untoward took place, but I thought it was best to check you for further injuries after you were brought aboard, considering the trauma to your nose.”

That was confirmed for her, at least.

“Are you a doctor then?” Andromeda asked, still glancing around for some hint of modern medicine.The man inclined his head in a small bow.

“Indeed,” he answered politely. “Dr. Stephen Maturin, at your service.”

A little bemused, Andromeda nodded back. 

“Andromeda Price, at yours I suppose,” she replied, feeling more than a little out of place. “Um.” She hesitated before continuing, almost afraid to hear the answer. “Did you happen to find any other survivors?”

The doctor’s gaze softened with something akin to compassion.

“I’m afraid not,” he answered, confirming Andromeda’s fears. “We’ve kept a sharp lookout for the past several hours since we found you, but have not yet seen any others.”

“Has the navy been out?” The woman asked, just in case. “Or the coast guard, or whatever the Brazilian equivalent is?”

The doctor seemed perplexed at her question.

“Madam, you are currently on a navy ship,” he said slowly. “This is the HMS Surprise.”

Andromeda stared at him for a moment, wondering if he didn’t understand.

“No,” she said, trying to clear up her point. “I mean like a real navy ship, like, Search and Rescue?”

Seeing the frown that crossed his face, she added quickly, “Not that I mean this isn’t a real ship, I just mean it doesn’t exactly look like this thing even has radar or anything.”

Her explanation didn’t seem to clear anything up for the man.

“I beg your pardon;  _ ray-dar _ ?” The word sounded like he was testing it for the first time.

Andromeda began to grow frustrated at the lack of clarification.

“Okay,” she huffed, “I know you guys must be super into your reenacting or whatever it is you’re doing on this antique, but this is taking it a little far, don’t you think? People have  _ died _ ! There should be rescue crews out there trying to find survivors or the wreckage so they can tell the families, and my government needs to know I’m not  _ dead _ , what the hell!”

The doctor seemed perturbed by her outburst and opened his mouth to respond, but before he got the chance, heavy footsteps sounded on the stair. Andromeda clutched the blanket to her chest even tighter as another man in period clothes, this one dressed in a navy uniform that looked as if it came straight out of an Austen movie, ducked into the cabin. He looked between Andromeda and the doctor for a moment as if assessing the situation before saying “I thought I heard voices down here; it’s good to see you awake, madam.”

For some reason, the sight of the absurd uniform and his vintage manners made Andromeda even more upset. 

“Look, would you two drop the act already?” she exclaimed, becoming more than a little overwhelmed by the situation. “If it’s that important to you, I won’t tell anyone you dropped character, alright? Now will you  _ please _ just tell me when we’ll get to land so I can let the authorities know I’m alive!”

The stranger and the doctor shared a look that told Andromeda that they both thought she was a little nuts. 

“ _ Please _ ,” she said again, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the past two days wash over her. “I just want to go home.”

The stranger took a few steps closer to the table she sat on, standing almost opposite the doctor. “And where is home for you, madam?” he asked, a curious sort of tenseness in his tone.

“Virginia,” Andromeda replied tiredly. “In America. I was on my way to Sao Paulo when the plane crashed maybe an hour away from land.”

The man’s eyebrows lifted in response, skeptical of her answer. “And were you travelling with family? Your husband, perhaps?”

Andromeda stared at him for a minute, wondering why he needed to know. “What? No, I was just going on vacation.”

The man frowned at her, suspicion crossing his face. “And what business, pray, does a lone woman, traveling alone, no less, have in Portugese territory?”

Frustrated, Andromeda sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose before remembering her injury. “Fuck,” she hissed under her breath when her nose gave a violent throb in protest, pausing to gently stroke the swollen skin as if to soothe the pain away. Eyes turned downward, she did not notice the surprised glance the men shared over her head at her choice of language. 

“Look,” she said finally after she lifted her head again, trying to ignore the pain. “I really don’t know what you’re on about or why it matters. Brazil is Brazil and Portugal is Portugal and I was just trying to go on a nice  _ peaceful _ vacation and I. Did. Not. Ask. For. This.  _ Bullshit _ !”

Tense silence reigned for a moment before the stranger finally responded in a stern tone, “Perhaps we must have missed something while being at sea, madam. Pray, at what date did the territory of Brazil cease to be under the dominion of Portugal?”

Andromeda rolled her eyes, tired of this line of questioning. “I don’t know dude, since like the 1800’s; read a book, damn!”

The men exchanged another suspicious glance over her head, which only served to piss her off even more. It was the doctor who spoke next, however, though his words did not do anything to calm her.

“And what is the date, madam, if it is not, as you say, ‘the 1800’s?’”

Andromeda turned her frustrated gaze to him once more. “Is this to check if I’m concussed or something? Fine, I’ll play. Full name: Andromeda Rose Price; Date of Birth: December 7th, 1992; The date I last remember was March 15th, 2021, and the current President is Bernie Sanders, thank god. Are you satisfied?”

Judging by the looks on their faces, they were not. Andromeda looked between them and sighed, anxiety returning full force along with a gut feeling that something was definitely Not Right here. Of all the ships to be rescued by, it figured that she got one full of weirdos. 

* * *

“Not only is she a blasted American, but she’s clearly delusional as well!” exclaimed Captain Aubrey as he and the Doctor excused themselves from the sick bay. “The year of our lord two-thousand and twenty-one, how absurd! Have you ever seen such delusions occur after a blow to the head, Stephen?”

The Doctor removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes tiredly while he pondered.

“It is not uncommon to witness altered behavior after a trauma of the brain,” he admitted. “Some patients even find themselves speaking in languages they did not know before such an injury. I suppose anything is possible; injuries of the brain are as of yet largely unstudied in depth. There is much we don’t yet understand.”

There was something in his tone, however, that did not settle right with the Captain.

“And yet you don’t seem particularly convinced,” he accused his friend, frowning mightily. 

The doctor hesitated for a short moment before shaking his head.

“In any other case, I would have been,” he admitted. “But there are simply too many oddities to square with. An American woman travelling alone in wartime; her unusual dress and manner of speaking; the piercings and tattoos; the bag she had with her is of a material I have never seen before, and I cannot even begin to explain the strange contraption that was around her when we pulled her from the water. It is too much to simply explain with a brain injury.”

The Captain stared at the Doctor for a long, uncomfortable minute. “You cannot tell me that you actually believe that this woman is, what, from the future? The  _ future _ , Stephen! It is absolutely impossible!”

The Doctor merely shrugged a shoulder.

“I don’t know everything there is to know about the Universe, Jack,” he answered mildly. “At the very least, we can hear her story and figure this out afterwards.”

The Captain turned away and stared down the length of the deck, mulling it over. 

“Very well,” he said at last, the set of his jaw showing his displeasure with the situation. “I shall withhold my judgement for now.” After another moment, he added, “I’ll have food sent down, and dry clothes if we can find anything to fit her. Questioning can wait until tomorrow morning; the girl looks as if a strong wind would knock her over in that state.”

With one final nod, he turned away and set out to see that everything was taken care of appropriately, making sure to ask the Captain of the Marines to have someone posted outside the sick bay at all times. Something was suspicious about the manner of the girl’s appearance and he was determined to find out what it was. 


	4. To the Brig! Unless...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda gets some dry clothes! Captain Aubrey is not convinced she's telling the truth about how she came to be in the water, but what sort of gentleman would throw a helpless young woman into the brig?!

Andromeda was sitting on the edge of the table, legs swinging idly and blanket wrapped around her like a cloak, when the sound of approaching footsteps once more alerted her of company. This time, however, it was neither the doctor or the other navy man, but instead a slightly weathered, pleasant looking fellow with light eyes and wild blonde curls escaping a small tail. He smiled a little bashfully when he met her eyes and Andromeda couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Pardon me, miss,” he said politely. “I’ve been sent to bring you some food and, erm, clothes.” He blushed faintly at the mention of her garments. “The Captain sends word that he would like to speak with you on the morrow, and the Doctor will return after you’ve had time to eat and dress.”

At the mention of food and clothes, Andromeda finally noticed the bowl and cup he had in each hand and the bundle of clothing tucked under one arm.

“Oh,” she said, grateful that someone had thought to give her something other than the scratchy blanket. “Thank you, Mr…”

The man shook his head slightly, as if remembering something.

“Barrett, Miss. Barrett Bonden.”

Andromeda offered him another small smile and reached out for the bowl with the hand that wasn’t clutching the blanket around her, leaving him free to set the cup of what appeared to be water and the bundle of clothes on the table beside her. Up close, Andromeda could just make out the line of a curved scar just below his right eye. She hitched the blanket higher on her shoulders and opened her mouth to introduce herself when the ringing of the ship’s bell sounded from somewhere above them.

“Pardon me, Miss,” the man said again. “I need to get to my post.”

Andromeda nodded.

“Thank you for the food, and for the clothes,” she said gratefully. “I appreciate it.”

The man seemed to hesitate for a moment before touching a knuckle to his brow and retreating up the stairway that Andromeda guessed must lead to the upper decks. She watched him until he was out of sight before peering into the bowl she still held and frowning at the rather unappetizing mass of some sort of stew and a chunk of biscuit as hard as a rock. Inspection of the clothes revealed a well worn and patched shirt and a pair of wide legged trousers. They smelled a little of the sea, but considering she was on a ship full of men who were pretending to be period sailors, she supposed it could have been worse. 

She changed first, holding the blanket awkwardly around her like a shield, still not convinced of the trustworthiness of her rescuers. The shirtsleeves billowed around her wrists, which she remedied by rolling them almost to her elbows, and the trousers were rather snug in the hip and thigh areas, but they were dry and left her feeling much less exposed, for which she was grateful.

Sitting back on the table, she pulled the blanket over her shoulders once more and unenthusiastically grabbed the cup of water, staring at a moment suspiciously before finally taking a tiny, testing sip. She had always heard that drugs like rohypnol gave drinks a salty taste, but the water only tasted faintly of rum.  _ Grog _ , she thought to herself, rolling her eyes at the dedication of these reenactors. Still, she was thirsty enough that she drained the whole thing in no time before turning to the mystery stew. She found, after a cautious bite, that it tasted much better than it looked, and even the brick of a biscuit was edible after having been submerged for a while, and that was polished off in short order as well. 

She was just setting the empty bowl down beside her when footsteps signalled company once more. This time, it was the Doctor who ducked past the canvas divider, and Andromeda was pleased that the interrogative stranger did not accompany him. She was too tired to deal with any more probing questions at the moment.

“I see the clothing seems to fit,” he said as he approached her. “We had to guess at your size; I do hope they’re not too uncomfortable for you. Unfortunately, His Majesty’s navy does not make a habit of keeping women’s clothing aboard, but judging by the garments we found you in, I trust these shouldn’t be too dissimilar.”

At the mention of her clothes, Andromeda started a little. “My bag!” she exclaimed, looking around the cabin for any sign of it. “Did I have backpack when you found me? It’s got my passport and all of my spare clothes!”

The doctor seemed curious when he answered her.

“Yes, we did bring your satchel aboard, though I must admit I am most curious about the other contraption that was around your neck. I’ve never seen such a thing in my life!”

Andromeda sighed discreetly. 

“I’d be happy to explain it to you,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. “Perhaps at another time. May I have my bag please?”

The Doctor hesitated for a moment before replying “of course” and fetching the backpack from where it had been stored in a cupboard across the cabin.

“I’m not sure it will be of any use to you at the moment,” he said when he returned, placing the back beside her. “It appears to be secured with a miniature padlock.”

“Yes, that was rather the point,” Andromeda replied, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Yes, well.” The Doctor cleared his throat. “Captain Aubrey and I would like to discuss the circumstances of your arrival in the morning, but you should rest for now. You may use one of the hammocks here to sleep in; I daresay they’ll be much more comfortable than the surgery table.”

Andromeda cast a skeptical glance down at the table in question as the man continued. 

“If you have need of anything, there is a Marine on duty just outside,” he gestured to the canvas divider. “Should you experience any nausea, headaches, or other ill symptoms, do not hesitate to send for me at once.”

Andromeda nodded, sliding down from the table. At least the man was back to the guise of medical professional and not Assistant Interrogator. 

“Thank you Doctor,” she responded, tone still carrying a slight note of sarcasm.  _ If you’re even a doctor at all. _

The man nodded politely, though Andromeda could see that he wasn’t entirely satisfied with the situation.

“Good night, Miss Price,” he finally said before returning back beyond the partition. 

Andromeda waited until his footsteps grew too far away to hear any longer before tossing the blanket onto the hammock nearest her and stooping down to retrieve her boots and socks from where they laid beneath the table. Digging a hand into the right boot, she deftly pried up the heel of the inner sole and shook out the little key that was hidden within. 

“Pays to be paranoid,” she muttered to herself as she set the boot back down and reached for her backpack. Moving carefully so as not to make too much noise and draw attention to herself, she slowly opened the small lock and unzipped the bag, sighing with relief at the sight of her belongings: sodden, but still there.

Laying at the top of the pile were her passport and wallet, looking a little worse for wear but still usable if necessary to prove identification. Of everything in her bag, those were of greatest importance to Andromeda. Beneath those were a soggy paperback she had picked up at a kiosk in the airport and an equally soggy notebook. Her phone charger was useless as the phone in question was likely laying at the bottom of the ocean, but she was thrilled to see her polaroid and extra film, sealed within double ziploc bags (just in case), intact and  _ dry _ . Beside it were an unopened bottle of water and some snacks she had grabbed at the last minute, her bag of toiletries, and lastly, her spare clothes. 

She began the task of laying everything out to dry, propping up the books and fanning out the pages as best she could, and draping clothing across every hammock. She eyed her undergarments for a moment before finally deciding to shove them back into the bag and away from any prying eyes. With luck, at least her socks would be dry by the time she woke up so that she wouldn’t have to walk around in her bare feet. 

Deciding not to take the chance of them getting misplaced, Andromeda returned her passport, wallet, and camera to her bag and locked it once more before climbing unsteadily into the hammock and placing the bag at her feet. She looped one of the straps around her ankle so that she would wake upon anyone trying to move it.

At last, she settled down, tucking the blanket around her shoulders to ward off the night’s chill. Still unnerved by her experience and wary of her rescuers, she lay awake for a long while, but was at last lulled to sleep by the gentle sway of the hammock, the creaking of the ship’s timbers, and the distant chiming of the ship’s bell. 

  
  


Voices outside the canvas partition woke Andromeda the next day. Disoriented, it took her a moment to gather her bearings and remember where she was. She sat up with a small groan -if she had been sore the day before, it had only gotten worse- just in time to see the doctor pause at the sight of her clothes strewn about; having just ducked into the cabin.

“Sorry about the mess,” she yawned, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “I wanted them to dry so I could return the borrowed clothes before I leave.”

The Doctor made a curious sound in the back of his throat but Andromeda was too busy trying to safely extricate herself from the hammock to notice. Feet safely on the floor once more, she folded the blanket and placed it back into the hammock before shuffling around and gathering up the rest of her clothes. Although drier, they were still slightly damp so Andromeda placed them on the table rather than shoving them back into her bag. 

She was pulling on her socks, thankfully dry, and boots when the Doctor cleared his throat, causing her to look up at him. 

“Well,” he said, “Captain Aubrey wishes to speak with you when you awoke; if you’re ready, I will take you to him.”

Andromeda finished tying the laces of her boots before standing and offering a slight shrug.

“I guess I don’t really have a say in the matter, do I? Lead on, then.”

She slung the strap of her bag over one shoulder, hesitant to leave it behind, but paused when the doctor turned to lead her further into the bowels of the ship.

“Um,” she started awkwardly, “I don’t suppose we’ll pass a bathroom on the way?”

The doctor raised a curious eyebrow at her.

“I’m sure some arrangements for bathing can be made, but that is something you can discuss with the Captain,” he answered, causing Andromeda to roll her eyes.

“Not for bathing, I mean the loo?”

There was no recognition on his face for the term.

“The can? The pot, outhouse, porcelain throne, ye-olde-port-a-john. Damn, what’s it called on a ship?” she snapped her fingers, trying to remember. “The privy? No, um..”

“The head?” offered the doctor, looking only slightly perturbed by her rambling.

“That’s it!” Andromeda exclaimed, pointing at him. “I need the head.”

The doctor thought it over for a quick moment before replying, “I’m sure Jack will allow you to use the head in the great cabin. We don’t have appropriate accommodations for women aboard so that will likely be the best option.”

He gestured for Andromeda to follow him once more and this time she did, gripping the strap of her bag tightly as they made their way down the length of the ship. Feeling awkward, she tried to ignore the stares and whispers from the men they passed along the way, and Andromeda was glad to be ushered through the set of large wooden doors at the opposite end of the ship that hid a brightly lit room with a wall of windows along one end. Here, Andromeda could see that they were in fact in the rear of the ship. Unlike the scuffed and weathered walls of the sickbay, this room was neatly maintained and orderly.

Her attention was drawn to the other occupant of the room; it was the stranger from the day before! He looked up as they entered, a slight frown on his face that only deepened when he caught sight of Andromeda. He rose from the table he had been sitting at, closing what Andromeda guessed was the ship’s log. 

“Miss Price,” he greeted with a nod. “Please, do be seated.”

Hesitantly, Andromeda sank into the seat he gestured to on the opposite side of the table, taking care to tuck her bag safely between her feet. The captain, or at least she assumed he was, sat before her once again and the doctor hovered somewhere on the edge of her periphery, choosing to stand instead. The captain cleared his throat, bringing Andromeda’s attention back to him.

“I realize I did not properly introduce myself yesterday,” he said. “Captain Jack Aubrey, of His Majesty’s Navy, at your service.”

Andromeda leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“Nice to meet you, I guess,” she replied blandly. “You already know my name, so can you please tell me where we are and when we’ll reach land? I need to speak to a consulate or embassy or something and let them know I’m not dead so I can go home.”

Some stern sort of expression passed over the captain’s face and he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he regarded her.

“For whatever tragedy has befallen you, I am sorry,” he responded gravely. “Considering, however, that you appear to be an American woman, travelling alone to Portugese territory in the midst of wartime, I will require some answers from you first, madam.”

Andromeda blinked at the man, tired mind a little slow to process his words, before growing confused. 

“War?” she asked, perplexed. “What war? Everything going on lately has been in the Middle East and Africa, not the Atlantic?” Her inflection made the statement seem like a question in her state of befuddlement. 

The captain directed his level stare somewhere beyond her shoulder for a moment before turning it back to her.

“Napoleon’s war, madam,” he answered her slowly, as if she were simpleminded. “France and her allies opposing England and hers.”

Andromeda stared blankly at the man for a few beats, frustration rising within her once more.“I see,” she said slowly. “You’re still playing like it’s, what, 1800? 1805? Look, if this is your job or you’re just super into your hobbies, I get it; no judgy. But I do need to get to a consulate or embassy as soon as possible because I’m sure everyone thinks I’m dead right now! This could turn into an international incident; I could nail y’all for kidnapping!”

The captain did not seem to appreciate her tone or her words.

“You are not exactly in any position to be making threats, madam!” he rumbled, temper visibly rising. “These are dangerous times and my first priority is the safety of my crew. For all anyone could know, you are a spy sent by an enemy to gather secrets about the position of navy ships with the intent of affecting the outcome of this war! Now, you will tell me; what business did you have travelling alone to become stranded at sea?”

Wary of his tone, Andromeda stared at him for a moment, examining his expression. At length, she sighed, resigned. “If you’re an actor, you’re very good,” she remarked tiredly, which did not endear her to him. “Fine, fine, I’ll play along! I was on vacation, okay? One of my coworkers convinced me to go to Brazil for a couple weeks on holiday; that’s where I was going when the plane crashed and stranded me in the ocean.”

The captain leaned back in his chair, observing her. 

“That’s twice now you’ve mentioned this ‘Plane.’ Was she an American vessel?”

Andromeda snorted, feeling the ridiculousness of the situation fully.

“Jesus, no, okay we’re really doing this,” she muttered to herself in disbelief. “It’s not a ship, it’s an airplane. You know, big metal bird that flies in the sky? Although I guess it won’t be invented for another hundred years or so for you lot; shame.”

Her blase answer only seemed to make the captain angrier. He stood from his chair, slapping his palms flat on the table and looming over her, causing her to scoot her chair back in return.

“I will not tolerate lying or fanciful stories, Miss Price!” he exclaimed, voice rising. “I will have the truth and I will have it now! If you do not comply, I will have no choice but to have you locked in the brig until you do or until such a time as I can have you transferred from my custody. It is your choice, madam.”

A strange nagging feeling in her gut told Andromeda that this was somehow more than roleplay for the sake of reenacting. She frowned, staring through the table as her mind worked overtime to process everything she had seen and heard so far. Something about these men and this ship was just a little too much to be a charade, even for very talented and committed actors. On the other hand, the only other possibility was too ludicrous to entertain. Nevertheless, Andromeda did not fancy finding out just how serious the threat about the brig really was. Worst case, a handful of total strangers through she was a gullible nincompoop. Other worst case, she was thrown in the brig anyways because they didn’t believe her. There really was no best case, considering she was still stuck here, so it didn’t seem like she had much choice in the end.

“Alright,” she sighed at last. “I can tell you what I know. If you’re pulling my leg here, I just want to state for the record that I am tired and in pain and dealing with the trauma of surviving a plane crash that no one else appears to have survived and I just want to go home so I don’t care if I have to look a fool to get there!” She paused to catch her wind after that mouthful.

Face softening only slightly, the captain gestured for her to continue, but remained standing. Andromeda sighed again and rubbed her face tiredly.

“Fine, okay, here we go. My name is Andromeda Price; I was born in Berlin, Germany, in the year 1992. I’m an American citizen and the date I boarded the airplane on my way to Brazil was March 15th, 2021. I guess, if this is, as you claim, the midst of the Napoleonic Wars, I’m from the future and have somehow traveled through time. God, it sounds even crazier out loud,” she muttered the last part to herself, shaking her head.

She waited for the laughter of men who knew they’d played the ultimate prank, but none came. Instead, the captain merely shook his head and said to the doctor behind her, “Stephen, would you kindly send word for the master at arms.”

Andromeda’s stomach clenched. 

“No, wait!” she pleaded, any sense of embarrassment gone at the thought of spending time in whatever a brig on a ship of this sort looked like. “I can prove it! Or at least try to, please!”

Without waiting for an answer, she swiftly leaned down and opened her bag, grabbing her wallet and passport and slapping them on the table.

“This is my passport,” she explained, pointing to the slim blue booklet. “It’s official government documentation of my identity, my nationality, and my date of birth.” She pointed to the black leather wallet. “This has my drivers license, my cash, and my credit cards. They all have dates on them as well.”

The captain stared at Andromeda for another beat before slowly reaching for the passport. He inspected the outside, bending it back and forth a little before opening it and scanning the pages inside. After a moment of study, he wordlessly offered it to the doctor, who examined it as well, looking between it and Andromeda as if comparing her to the photograph inside. 

The captain then flipped open the wallet, pulling out her license and credit card and turning the flat plastic over in his hands, seeming deep in thought.

“While strange, these items do not prove that you were telling the truth,” he said at last, shaking his head. “It is impossible. I’m not sure what game you are trying to play by telling such an outlandish story, but it makes no difference. I cannot trust you to be unwatched on this ship.”

Andromeda opened her mouth to protest, but the doctor interrupted first. 

“I’ve never seen such material, Jack,” he murmured, still examining the passport and appearing not to have heard the previous outburst. “I must say that this is the most unusual portraiture; it looks so lifelike.”

The remark struck Andromeda and she suddenly remembered the camera in her bag.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, digging it out. “Give me a minute and I can show you; it’s not a portrait, it’s a photograph!”

The men started slightly as she ripped open the ziploc bags and pulled out the little yellow camera.

“Hold still,” she ordered the captain, lifting the viewfinder up to her eye and clicking the shutter button. The ensuing flash caused the captain to shout and leap back from the table.

“What the devil are you doing, woman?!” he thundered angrily, taking a threatening step towards her as she lowered the camera.

“Hold on, please,” Andromeda pleased, holding the camera safely in her lap and grabbing the polaroid that slid out of the top. “Let it develop and you’ll see!”

She placed the photo on the table, face up so the men could see it develop into a proper image. A man governed by curiosity, the doctor leaned over to study it, exclaiming in surprise when the darkness cleared and an image of the captain began to show.

“How extraordinary,” he muttered to himself, hands automatically reaching for the photograph before he remembered himself and glanced over at Andromeda. 

“You can pick it up,” she said, guessing his concern. “It’s safe.”

He did so, inspecting it closely, turning it this way and that in the light. 

“Extraordinary,” he repeated, enthralled. “I have never seen such a display of science! Jack, you must look at this!”

The captain reached out a hand for the photograph, stern glare never leaving Andromeda’s face. He turned his heavy gaze away only long enough to glance at the picture, but he was forced to do a double take at the sight of his own image reflected on the film. 

“What sort of trickery is this?” he demanded, waving the photo at Andromeda.

She lifted the camera again, showing it to him clearly.

“It’s not trickery,” she explained, happy to have his attention away from thoughts of the brig. “It’s science; it’s called photography. Discovered sometime in the early-mid 1800’s, I think. It uses light exposure on light sensitive paper or film to imprint the image captured in the viewfinder.” She pointed at the little square. “I don’t know exactly what the chemical process was like in the early days, but I remember something about silver nitrate? And maybe phosphorous, for the flash?”

The two men stared at her; the doctor looked utterly fascinated and the captain less so.

“Oh yeah!” Andromeda remembered, waving the camera. “Duh. This is called a camera; it’s a device used to contain the film and control the light exposure.”

The captain regarded her carefully, seeming to have forgotten the picture in his hand.

“And what else do you have in that bag of yours?” he asked slowly, eyeing it as if it were dangerous.

Andromeda shrugged.

“Toiletries, mostly,” she replied, pulling out the smaller pouch in question. “Stuff for bathing, some makeup, um, cosmetics? Some first aid things, band-aids, neosporin…” she unzipped the pouch so they could peer inside. “Extra clothes, uh, a very soggy paperback and an equally soggy notebook. Oh, and some pens!” She pulled a pen from the inner pocket of her bag and clicked it before offering it to the captain, who took it carefully and inspected it. “The ink is inside the tube. It’s a gel, and sealed so it doesn’t dry out like a fountain pen.”

When the captain remained silent, Andromeda grew nervous again.

“Please,” she sighed. “I have no reason to lie, and honestly if I did, it would certainly be something a bit more believable. If I were a spy, one would hope I’d be a little bit better at my job, wouldn’t you agree?”

The captain set the pen and photograph down on the table before crossing his arms and regarding her carefully.

“While I appreciate your supposed candor and willingness to lay out your belongings freely, I cannot bring myself to believe such an absurdity as a woman from the future. There must be some other explanation for these strange contraptions.”

When Andromeda opened her mouth to protest, he held up a hand to silence her.

“Nevertheless,” he continued, “you do not seem the type to have been chosen for espionage, not with such outlandish stories and conspicuous dress. I shall, against my better judgement, allow you to stay unguarded, on the condition that you follow any and all orders given by me, the doctor here, or any of my officers.”

Andromeda nodded eagerly, thrilled that she wasn’t going to be locked in the brig.

“As we are nowhere near an allied or neutral port and incapable of disregarding our orders to bring you one at the cost of changing course, you shall remain aboard until further notice.”

“Sounds fair,” Andromeda replied, happy just to not have been thrown in the ship’s jail or tossed overboard. Somewhere above them, the ship’s bell rang out, causing the captain to glance upward as if he could see onto the deck. 

“As we have no current accommodations for a woman on board, you may stay in the naturalist’s cabin, as our naturalist is also our surgeon. Stephen may show you where you may go on this ship, but I will ask you not to wander unaccompanied.”

This seemed to be a dismissal, as the captain nodded to the doctor and began to shrug into his overcoat. Andromeda quickly packed her things back into her bag and thanked the man before following the doctor back out the way they came. This time, however, they made their way down a rickety set of stairs that was more like a ladder, stopping on the next deck. It was here that the doctor opened the door to a room barely larger than a closet. It held a narrow bookcase and a collection of little wooden cages, nets, and other tools and instruments that reminded Andromeda of her childhood, when she used to catch bugs and turtles with such things. 

“I’ve been using it for storage mostly,” explained the doctor as he eyed the clutter. “I’ll have Padeen move the cages and tools someplace else in a moment, but I’ve no room for the bookcase in my cabin at present.”

Andromeda waved her hand in dismissal. 

“Don’t even worry about it,” she insisted, setting her bag down in the corner. “This is hardly the worst place I’ve ever slept, I’m sure it’ll be just fine.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow in question.

“Oh yeah,” Andromeda affirmed, nodding. “College was an interesting time. I fell asleep under a table in the library during finals once, and I know someone who fell asleep on the toilet. Port Authority and the Greyhound buses were probably the worst though; always cold, full of people with body odor, and always smelling of piss.”

The Doctor’s curiosity was piqued once more. 

“You attended college?” he asked, entirely forgetting about moving the clutter from the room.

Andromeda leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms casually.

“Oh yeah,” she said. “I did my undergrad at William & Mary and my Masters at UNC-Chapel Hill. I considered going for my PhD as well, but doctorate specializations in the Library Science field are so niche they’re basically useless so I tabled that for the time being. Guess I’ll never get the chance now,” she muttered to herself.

“Library Science?” the Doctor repeated. “And what exactly does that entail? I confess I’ve never much thought as libraries being institutions that required scientific learning to operate.”

Andromeda brightened; she always loved the chance to talk about her field.

“Oh sure! I suppose it’s a lot more relevant where I come from, with computers and really just the sheer enormity of information we have to manage, but it’s definitely a science! I focused in Archives and Preservation, which actually requires some knowledge of chemistry, but non specific fields mostly just need to know how to catalog and arrange data. I work with preserving books and manuscripts though, so I had to learn about the chemistry of paper and ink and leather and how to prevent deterioration and whatnot, so it’s actually like real laboratory science!”

The Doctor nodded, seeming to understand. “I see; that does make sense when you take into account how time and environment affects the quality of materials used in bookmaking. Now, can you tell me more about this camera machine? How exactly does it work?”

Andromeda laughed at his enthusiasm and produced the camera again to show him. Although she couldn’t explain everything, she did her best and seemed to get the concept across. For a medical doctor, especially one from the 19th century, the man seemed to have a well rounded knowledge of general chemistry and grasped the concepts surprisingly well. Although her own knowledge of biology and natural science was somewhat limited, they spent several hours discussing all manner of theories and findings. While he led her back to the sick bay to fetch her clothes, she told him of all manner of medical inventions which only prompted more questions, many of which she couldn’t fully answer. He seemed fascinated with the concept of non-invasive techniques such as the ultrasound and x-rays and was surprised to learn that the same idea was behind radar technology, which she had mentioned during their first ever conversation.

“I think we got the idea from observing bats and their ability to use echolocation,” she explained as she gathered up her clothes and half-dry books. “The sound bounces off and returns at different rates depending on distance, so it can tell us how close or far away something is. Sort of like dropping a stone down a well to see how deep it is, does that make sense?”

The doctor nodded as he held the canvas partition up so she could pass through it easily. 

“How clever!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been telling Jack that observation of what is found in nature is necessary to understand the world and its history but he doesn’t quite seem to believe me. This is surely proof of just that! Observing an animal in its natural habitat gives us a way to improve our own navigation and even medicine! I must admit I do feel rather vindicated, thank you.”

On their way back down the ship, Andromeda was introduced to Higgins, the nervous looking surgeon’s mate, and Padeen, the mild-looking loblolly boy who towered over them all. It was then in short manner that the tiny cabin was cleared of scientific clutter and, upon returning from storing the mess away, Padeen delighted Andromeda by presenting her with an empty footlocker he had found, apparently left by a deserter some months past.

“Thank you very much!” She exclaimed, beaming at him. “How thoughtful!”

She was left alone for a short while to put away her belongings, storing the dry things neatly in the locker and draping the still-damp ones over her new hammock once more. Her book and notebook she placed on the bookshelf, once again fanning out the pages so that they might dry better and wishing she had a fan to speed up the process. 

When the Doctor returned, he came bearing some more rather unappetizing food for their midday meal and they migrated to his cabin, larger and brighter than her own she noted, to eat and continue their discussion. Andromeda particularly enjoyed telling him about Darwin’s theory of natural selection and Mendel’s experiments with peas to explain the heredity of genetic traits. Surprisingly, the doctor was somewhat familiar with the concept of natural selection, although he did not know it by that name or function. He showed her a book with illustrations of insects that fit the theory.

“That’s exactly it!” Andromeda exclaimed, pointing at the stick bug. “Although it’s not necessarily a conscious change; it happens when the bugs with this particular trait are the ones who survive predators and other dangers, so those traits get passed down through reproduction. Eventually you’re left with only those helpful traits; in this case, looking confusingly like a stick!”

Amusingly, the doctor was making notes throughout their conversation; Andromeda was sure he intended to carry out some experiments and observations of his own as soon as he got the chance. Eventually, they were interrupted by the arrival of a young boy with untidy blonde curls and a miniature uniform similar to what Andromeda had seen the captain wearing the day before. 

“Excuse me doctor, Miss,” he said politely. “The captain has sent for you, doctor. I am to watch after Miss Price until you return.”

Andromeda snorted to herself. The captain had sent a child to babysit her; unbelievable. The doctor excused himself and the young boy entered the cabin, standing to the side of where she sat. 

“Will Blakeney, Miss,” he introduced himself, touching a knuckle to his brow. “How do you do?”

Andromeda was charmed instantly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Blakeney,” she responded with a smile. “I’m Andromeda Price.”

The boy shifted a little closer before asking, “How did you get all the way out here? Were you an American officer’s wife?”

Andromeda laughed; how far from the truth! But then again, what was she supposed to tell people when asked the same thing? “I was, um, visiting family,” she lied. “Our ship was caught in a storm and must have been blown off course because we struck something and sank without warning.”

Seeing the sympathy on his face, she immediately felt terrible for lying, but didn’t know what else to say.

“How terrible,” the boy replied gravely. “I am sorry that happened to you; but luckily we found you and you’re safe aboard now!”

Andromeda smiled at him again.

“Yes, lucky indeed,” she murmured, almost to herself.

They made idle chitchat until the doctor returned a few minutes later, speaking of some places in America that the boy had seen while at port for a short time before he went on his way with another touch of knuckle to brow. When he was fully out of sight, the doctor sighed.

“As you are a guest on the ship for the time being, it is only appropriate that you join myself and the ship’s officers in the great cabin for supper. Jack wished me to convey that should you be asked about the circumstances of your arrival, that you were a passenger on an American merchant ship that was lost at sea. Of course, the topic of any and all things regarding the future should be avoided.”

Andromeda sighed, half in annoyance and half in relief.

“Good thing that’s basically what I told the kid, uh, Blakeney,” she replied. “Should I, like, change or something? I’ve got a skirt that might be a little more period appropriate.”

Without waiting for an answer, she drifted over to her little cabin and pulled the garment in question out of the trunk, holding it up for inspection.

“One moment,” she told the bemused doctor before shutting the door. 

She quickly pulled off her boots and shimmied out of the borrowed trousers before pulling on a pair of cropped workout leggings. She then tied the purple silk wrap skirt around her waist and tucked in the billowy shirt before pulling on her boots once more. Catching sight of her toiletries case, she hesitated for a moment before shrugging and spraying on a small spritz of her travel sized perfume.

“How’s this?” she asked when she pulled open the cabin door to face the doctor again.

“Certainly less scandalous than the trousers,” the man answered wryly. “And I’m sure Mr. Warley will not be unhappy to have them back. Bring them along with you; we can send them back on the way.”

Andromeda did as he suggested and bundled the trousers under her arm just as the ship’s bell rang out overhead once more.

“That’s the 8 o’clock bell,” the doctor explained when she glanced upwards as if she might see the bell above her. “Supper time; come along.”

Nerves roiled in her gut once more as she followed him back to the great cabin. Along the way, the doctor handed off the trousers to a child who couldn’t have been more than 6, with instructions to bring them back to their owner. Andromeda watched the little lad run off to do as he was bidden, shaking her head.

_ Gotta love child labor,  _ she thought to herself.

When the two of them entered the great cabin, the rumbling of conversation drew to an abrupt halt, causing Andromeda to flush with awkwardness. The men stood almost as one and offered nods of greeting and, in one case -an older gentleman with a round face topped by a mop of grey curls- a short bow. Feeling out of place and more than a little silly, Andromeda bobbed an awkward curtsy and said “How d’you do?”

Thankfully the captain saved her from further awkwardness by saying, “Gentlemen, this is Miss Andromeda Price. Miss Price, these are my officers.”

As he introduced them, Andromeda took note of their faces. 

First Lieutenant Tom Pullings was a handsome young man with long hair tied in a queue and a scar across the bridge of his nose and right cheek that appeared to have been made by some sort of blade. He offered her a small smile, which she gladly returned. Second Lieutenant William Mowett was a pleasant looking man with bright blue eyes and a kind smile. Andromeda liked the look of him immediately. The grey haired gentleman was Mr. Allen, the sailing master, and the last was Captain Howard of the Royal Marines, another cheerful looking fellow. 

Andromeda smiled at them all in turn and offered a polite “Nice to meet you all,” barely catching herself from using the very American “y’all” at the last moment. The doctor gestured to the empty chair to the left of the captain, which he even pulled out for her politely.

Andromeda offered him a smile, grateful for his presence among strangers, and sank into it gladly. She was pleased to see something that appeared to be wine or some other spirit on the table already. She could definitely use some at the moment, and drunk men were more likely to forget any holes in her story.

The food was quickly served, for which Andromeda was grateful, as it appeared to be some sort of roasted meat and vegetables, along with some more of the hard ship’s biscuit she had sampled earlier. From the comments around her, she gathered that they were lucky to have fresh carrots and turnips, having just been restocked by a supply ship not a week earlier.

“It is a pity they weren’t a week later,” remarked the sailing master. “Perhaps then they would have been able to return you to your kin.”

Slightly perturbed by all the lying she was going to do throughout her time on this ship, however long that might be, Andromeda merely shrugged and replied, “I am simply glad to have been rescued at all. And anyways, I don't have much family to worry about me so that point is moot.”

This answer prompted a round of questions from her companions. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the captain frown when Mr. Mowett asked how she came to be on the sea in the first place. Andromeda took a sip of her wine to buy herself a little time, grateful for the pleasing burn of the alcohol.

“I was on my way to visit my aunt in Jamaica, having received word that she was gravely ill,” she said slowly, trying to think of a convincing lie. “The day I was to depart, however, a letter arrived from a neighbor informing me that she and my young cousin had passed from the sickness, whatever it was. My fare was already paid so I decided to go anyways to pay my respects and assist with settling the estate for my last remaining cousin who is studying in Connecticut.”

She took another sip of wine and accepted their condolences with a grave nod and thanks. 

“We were caught by a storm somewhere between Florida and Jamaica, and I suppose we were blown off course and struck something, for the ship began to sink. Luckily I can swim, so I grabbed my backpack and jumped overboard.”

She realized she was beginning to ramble towards the end and cleared her throat awkwardly. “So that’s how I ended up here, I guess,” she finished lamely, grimacing at her lack of finesse. Luckily, the men all seemed to accept her story and the conversation quickly turned to new topics. Chancing a glance at the captain, she was relieved to receive a small nod of approval.

Although Andromeda would have preferred to sit and listen to the conversation in silence, she was touched that the men all made an effort to include her, though she noticed that they seemed to catch themselves and quickly steer the topic to something more ‘lady appropriate’ when bawdy themes appeared. Dessert had been served -a surprisingly tasty bread pudding- and all of the men save the captain and the doctor were well into their cups when Captain Howard asked a question that she should have been prepared for but wasn’t.

“Forgive my impertinence, madam,” he said, leaning an elbow on the table to support himself as he peered across at her. “I have never seen a Western woman with so many earrings as you seem to have, and  _ never _ one with a tattoo! Pray, are you perhaps descended from the Native Indians in your country? Though, I must say you certainly don’t look it.”

Andromeda flushed at the implications behind his words and had to remind herself that she was surrounded by white men from a completely different social and political climate.

“I am not,” she said at last, struggling for an answer that was not quite the truth but would satisfy them anyways. In her head, she cursed herself for leaving her hair up, putting her numerous piercings on display. Her nose stud and tattoos, however, could not be helped.

“My family were...merchants,” she continued slowly. “My mother, god rest her, died when I was very young, so my father took me with him on his travels.” That wasn’t entirely a lie, she supposed, thinking about it. “We visited many places: Japan, Korea, China, Thailand, and more.”

The men all seemed surprised by her admission; even the captain couldn’t hide his interest.

“We discovered that natives are much more likely to be agreeable in trade and conversation when you make an effort to assimilate; speak the language and participate in cultural customs.” She was on a roll now, story flowing from her with ease. “So that’s what we did. We dressed in foreign clothes, ate foreign food, spoke foreign languages, and even,” here, she touched the steel in her left nostril, “participated in other cultural practices.”

The men all seemed to accept it, but Mr. Allen, by far the oldest of the company and likely the most old fashioned as well, was not so convinced. 

“Did your father not worry about your marriage prospects?” he asked, frowning. 

Andromeda scowled at the remark before remembering herself.

“I suppose my father was a little ahead of his time,” she replied, somewhat tartly, only catching the implication in her turn of phrase when the Doctor shot her a look. She glanced at him and grimaced in apology before turning back to the sailing master.

“His first thought was for my happiness,” she continued, “and his second for my education. He believed that one should marry for love, not fortune or benefit, and that if a person was so disgusted by a small piece of metal or ink hardly much different than a birthmark or scar, that he didn’t truly love me and it would have been a miserable match anyways.”

“Well said!” remarked the first lieutenant from across the table, raising his glass to Andromeda. She beamed at him in return before facing the sailing master once more.

“And anyways, I would much rather be alone and happy than married and miserable, so I think my papa must have had the right of it, god rest him,” she finished, pressing extra emphasis on the end, hoping that mention of the dead might stop him from replying further. Luckily, it seemed to work.

“Which was your favorite place to see?” asked the Doctor next, and Andromeda was grateful to him for changing the subject. She told them all about the countries she had visited, and even the captain asked a few questions about Japan and Korea. She hadn’t lied, exactly, when telling her stories. The only glaring flaws were that she was two hundred years off and her father had been a soldier, not a merchant. Nevertheless, her experiences and study of history allowed her to tell passable tales of the Asian countries. 

Above them, the ship’s bell rang out once more, causing the men to slowly rise to their feet with a couple good natured grumbles. One by one, they bid each other, and Andromeda, goodnight and ambled off to their respective resting places, leaving the woman alone with the doctor and the captain. The latter was eyeing her with the same level gaze from earlier and she could tell that he was critiquing her “performance.”

“Impressive storytelling,” he said at last with a quick quirk of the corner of his mouth. “Keep in mind that those are your truths from this moment on.”

A curt nod was her dismissal, and she gladly followed the doctor back to her minuscule cabin, hiding yawns behind her hand and offering smiles to the men she passed on the way, less anxious after three glasses of wine. She recognized one of them as they passed; it was the blond who had brought her food and clothes the evening before. Upon meeting his eyes, she smiled and exclaimed “Hello again!” as she passed.

He returned it cheerfully with a “Hello, Miss! Good to see you on your feet.”

“Thank you!” Andromeda called over her shoulder, hurrying to follow the doctor down the steep ladder to the deck below. 

She and the doctor parted and ducked into their respective cabins with a tired “goodnight” and Andromeda was glad to shuck off her clothes and clamber into the hammock for another night of being lulled to sleep by the gentle swinging and the sounds of the ship.


	5. An Ovid Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda gets a tour of the ship and does a little light reading.

Andromeda woke the next morning with an aching head and cotton mouth from the wine she had consumed at dinner. Almost reluctantly, she cracked open the bottle of water from her bag and chugged half of it down, shaking a couple of aspirin out of their little bottle to go with it.

Groggily, she took inventory of her stock. A handful of aspirin, a couple of bandaids, a small tube of neosporin, two packets of dramamine, several pads for blisters, and 5 packets of imodium were all she could claim in the way of health products, not including a handful of tampons, panty liners, and pads as well as two packs of birth control. She may have only planned to be gone for just short of a month, but she was determined not to be caught without personal items in a foreign country.  Reminded of her situation, Andromeda swore loudly to herself when she calculated the days and realized that her period would be starting in less than a week, assuming everything was according to schedule. If she was to stay on this ship any longer than a month, she would have to find some way to improvise some pads. Surely the doctor could help, as he seemed the most unlikely to be squeamish about feminine body functions.

She was also going to need a way to wash eventually, both her body and her clothes she thought, eyeing her bundled up socks and undergarments. Reaching up to feel her tangled mess of hair still caught in a messy bun, she decided that a proper bath, or as much of one as she could get on a ship, would come first.  Luckily, the doctor was easily able to assist her. One of the ship’s boys, the small child from the day before, whose name she learned was Lofty, was tasked with bringing her a bucket of water -seawater, she learned with a sigh- every third day when he was on a morning watch. Anything more, she would have to fetch herself.

The watches, Andromeda learned then, worked in three day circuits of five 4-hour shifts and two 2-hour ‘dog watches.’ The ship’s bell sounded the time; one peal for every half hour and two for every full. She made it her mission to learn the ship and its goings on as quickly as possible so as not to be in the way, and so that she might understand what’s going on at all times. 

Her thoughts turned then to how on earth she was going to get herself out of this mess. Assuming she wasn’t completely crazy and really had somehow fallen through time, how did she get there in the first place, and could she find a way back? It must have happened when she was under the water or unconscious, she figured. She would have said it was some sort of Bermuda Triangle bullshit but they were nowhere near it when the plane crashed.

Her best bet was probably to make her way to land, either in England or America, and see if she could find anything, books or stories or legends, of time travel. If it were possible, surely she couldn’t be the first to have done it. Maybe it only worked backwards? If that were the case, she was well and truly screwed, having no money or family she could contact. She could always pawn her jewelry, she supposed, remembering the small travel case stuffed in the bottom of her bag. It contained only a few pieces, not particularly expensive in her day, but perhaps they would be enough to pay for food and board while she looked for some sort of employment?

Andromeda groaned at the thought, burying her face in her hands. Now she was seriously thinking she was going to be stuck here forever!

“We’ll just have to cross that bridge when we get to it,” she muttered, distracting herself by turning her attention to her makeshift “bath.” The little ship’s boy had also brought her a small cake of hard soap at the request of the doctor but Andromeda set it aside for washing her clothes. Instead, she used her own bar of soap and mourned the depletion of her shampoo and conditioner. 

“Damned TSA,” she grumbled to herself, unhappily using almost a quarter of the miniscule bottles. While the seawater did leave a bit of salty residue on her skin, she felt better both physically and emotionally for having even this small sort of hygienic comfort. 

Having no towel, Andromeda wrapped her dripping hair in one of her t-shirts and dug through her bag for her small hairbrush, which she used to attack the remaining snarls in her hair. She then used a small amount of toothpaste and the last swig of her fresh water to brush her teeth. Feeling almost like a new person, she dressed once more in her skirt and borrowed shirt, pulled on her boots, and slipped out into the narrow hall.

The doctor she found in his cabin which, although cramped, held numerous books that she had admired the day before. Most of the tomes were bound in leather and were in almost pristine condition despite having been at sea for a time. Compared to books of a similar age she had worked on before, these looked as if they had been published only a year ago, although she supposed they technically could have been.

The doctor had looked up from whatever he was studying when Andromeda appeared in the doorway and observed her reaction as she gazed upon the books. 

“You are more than welcome to borrow them,” he stated kindly, making the girl jump, so distracted she had been. “Although they’re mostly of a medical and scientific nature, I do believe I have a small number of the Classics. In the original language, though, I’m afraid.”

Andromeda beamed at him, glad to have the invitation, which she would surely be taking him up on.

“That’s very kind, thank you,” she answered brightly, stepping closer to scan the titles. “I promise to take excellent care of them. And anyways, I may be a bit rusty but I’m sure I can at least muddle through enough Latin to make the reading worthwhile. When it comes to Greek, however, I’m basically hopeless.”

Gently, she pulled a beautifully bound copy of Ovid’s  _ Metamorphoses _ from the bottom shelf, taking care not to put any unnecessary stress on the headcap, and examined it in the light.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, peering at it closely and testing the spine. “This doesn’t appear to have been opened yet!”

Looking over her shoulder, the doctor made a noise of agreement.

“I’m afraid not,” he admitted. “I picked that one up the last time we were at port on a whim and haven’t had the time to read it.”

Andromeda was thrilled.

“Then it hasn’t had time to be broken!” she stated happily. “Many a good book has been the victim of improper handling, especially upon first reading. Not to worry,” she addressed the book much to the Doctor’s bemusement. “I’ll take good care of you.”

She gently placed the book spine down upon the small desk beside the shelf and slowly lowered each cover to the desk. The doctor watched in interest as she slowly let a few leaves fall, alternating sides, pressing them down gently before letting a few more fall. She repeated the process until she reached the middle of the book, and then did the whole thing over once more until she was satisfied that the spine was loosened. 

“There!” she exclaimed, holding the book up. “That is the proper way to open a new book. Never force it, and repeat as many times as necessary until it opens easily, otherwise you risk damaging the spine and loosening the pages.”

“Interesting,” the doctor replied, taking in the lesson. “I’m afraid I may be guilty of mishandling my books if that is the proper way to do it.”

Andromeda chuckled.

“Well I kind of went to school to learn these things, so it’s not surprising that lots of people don’t know how to properly handle and care for books. Don’t worry about it,” she said as she tucked the book in the crook of her arm. “You can be the People Doctor and I’ll be the Book Doctor.”

The man laughed in return, shaking his head.

“Well I cede to your knowledge of book surgery,” he said with a smile and gestured to the shelf. “Feel free to administer whatever treatment you deem necessary to the rest of your patients.”

Andromeda grinned at him.

“I will, thank you.” She drifted over to the doorway and leaned against it, hugging the book to her chest. “Is there a lot to do when you’re not tending to the sick and wounded or do you mostly just read your way through voyages?” she asked, curious about what there was to do on a sailing ship.

The doctor sat back and pulled off his spectacles as he thought.

“It can get rather dull sometimes,” he admitted. “I do spend a lot of time reading or documenting any new medical or scientific observations, but sometimes, weather allowing, there is time to take the air on deck. On occasion, I have been known to teach some of the men to read and write, if they have the desire.”

Andromeda hummed in thought. 

“Well,” she said, “If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind showing me around the ship? Or the way to the deck, at least. I think I may forget what the sun looks like if I spend another day down here.”

The doctor smiled amiably and rose from his seat.

“It’s no trouble at all, Miss Price. I would enjoy the chance to stretch my legs as well.”

“Please,” the woman insisted. “Call me Andromeda, or Andi; I think I’m a touch too old to be called Miss all the time.” When he hesitated to respond, she sighed heavily, guessing the reason. “If that’s somehow inappropriate for this day and age, I understand.”

The doctor gave her an apologetic smile.

“As we are representatives of His Majesty’s Navy, we are all beholden by social etiquette. If anyone were to suspect a relationship of a romantic nature between us, it would tie us together at the risk of ruining both our reputations, although yours may suffer the most.”

Andromeda rolled her eyes.

“Oh, bugger that,” she scoffed. “God forbid a man and a woman be friends without wanting to bone each other. No offense.”

The doctor blinked at her.

“I admit that particular turn of phrase is beyond me, but I do take your meaning. It can be rather arduous, but I’m afraid we must all play along.”

“Fine, fine,” Andromeda muttered. “I should just go find a corset while I’m at it. Anyways, lead on; let’s go get some fresh air and sunlight, eh?”

She followed him up two narrow sets of stairs and into the welcoming rays of the morning sun. As they climbed onto the sturdy planks of the deck, Andromeda swore she heard a faint call of “lady on deck” from somewhere in the rigging. She must have heard correctly, because it seemed as if all eyes immediately turned to stare at her as she emerged from behind the doctor. 

She was surprised to see that several of the stares leveled her way were rather unfriendly, bordering on angry. Several men looked her up and down with uncomfortable scrutiny, but the rest seemed, thankfully, merely curious. The doctor, having noticed the awkward situation, gently steered Andromeda toward the steps to her right, which led them up to the quarterdeck at the rear end of the ship. As they climbed, she spotted the captain and Lt. Pullings toward the rear of the quarterdeck, deep in conversation over a table spread with what appeared to be maps. She began to follow the doctor over to them but stopped short upon spotting a familiar face standing at the ship’s wheel.

In the light of day, she could see that Mr. Bonden’s eyes were light green, and sunlight shone off the blond curls that escaped from under the brim of his hat. Standing level with each other for the first time, Andromeda noticed that she was actually a couple inches taller than him and a dimple appeared in his left cheek when he smiled at her in greeting.

“Hello again, Mr. Bonden,” Andromeda said as she drew level with him. “We seem to keep running into each other.” As if anyone could avoid running into each other on such a ship.

“Aye, Miss,” the sailor replied cheekily. “I’m startin’ to think you’re followin’ me.”

Surprised by the remark, Andromeda threw her head back in laughter, drawing several more stares.

“I’ll never admit it!” she jested back, forgetting herself and throwing him a wink as she passed. She did not see the blush that turned the tips of his ears red as he turned his eyes back to the fore of the ship.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen!” she greeted when she reached the officers. “The Doctor was just showing me a bit of the ship.”

“Do you enjoy sailing, Miss Price?” asked the lieutenant after greetings were exchanged. “After traveling so often, I’m sure this must be quite familiar to you.”

Andromeda remembered her story from the night before and hurried to think of a response that would allow for her obvious lack of sailing know-how.

“I’m not yet sure, Mr. Pullings,” she responded after an idea struck her. “I used to get frightfully seasick as a child and teenager, so I spent most of the voyages in my cabin. Thankfully I seem to have outgrown it, so I am eager to learn all I can.”

Andromeda was surprised when it was the captain who responded.

“Well, the good Doctor here has been on ships long enough to know how to get around one, but nautical life still seems to be outside his area of expertise; wouldn’t you say, Stephen?”

The man in question rolled his eyes at his friend but did not seem offended by the jab.

“If it is knowledge you seek,” the captain continued, “any one of my officers would be glad to answer your queries, provided they are off duty.”

Surprised by the offer, having still been under the impression that the captain believed her to be of suspicious character, Andromeda fumbled for an answer before finally replying, “Thank you, Captain. I’m sure your officers will come to regret your offer, however, when they find themselves badgered by endless questions.”

She grinned at them to show that she was kidding, mostly. Hers was a curious nature and she wanted to learn everything there was to know that could be of use to her while she was stuck here. The expression on the Captain’s face could not be considered warm by any means, but it was not openly hostile, so Andromeda took it as a small sort of victory.

She and the doctor drifted away slightly, Andromeda listening intently as the man explained what he could. It was not an in depth tour, but she learned the basic layout of the ship, what she could find on each deck, and at least got a chance to marvel at the goings on of a real 19th century sailing ship. For just a moment, as she carefully leaned over the ship’s side and felt the sea spray and wind upon her face, the uncertainty of the future didn’t seem quite so bad. She could certainly see why life at sea appealed to so many. 

As the doctor continued the tour and led her to the front of the ship, she noticed a handful more slightly hostile stares leveled her way from the men on deck.

“Um,” she began, leaning in to murmur to the doctor, “is there a reason why I’m getting the death stare? Have I caused some sort of trouble by being here?”

The doctor sighed and shook his head.

“Some of the men are quite superstitious,” he explained, clearly disapproving of such unfounded beliefs. “They think that having a woman aboard is back luck.”

Andromeda rolled her eyes. “How archaic,” she muttered. “I guess if we run into a rock or something I’ll be the first person tossed overboard.”

Her companion huffed a laugh.

“Let us pray that doesn’t happen, then,” he responded humorously.

Andromeda shook her head and changed the subject, asking him questions about life aboard the ship and his experiences as a doctor. She watched, fascinated, as one of the midshipmen used what she recognized as a sextant to tell the time and call noon, and she also, unfortunately, learned why they called the toilet the ‘head,’ as she witnessed sailors take care of business down the front end of the ship.

Eventually, they were interrupted by another midshipman, a young lad whom the doctor addressed as Mr. Boyle.

“You’re needed in the surgery, sir,” the boy announced after greeting them. “Davies has cut himself again.”

Andromeda followed them as far as the main hatch before saying, “I think I’ll stay up here, if you don’t mind.” When the Doctor turned to her, she raised the book she still had with her. “Ovid will keep me company just fine,” she assured him. “And I can always ask one of the officers if I need assistance with anything.”

After noting that Lt. Mowett and two midshipmen could easily be seen up on the quarterdeck, the man nodded and said, “If you’re sure,” before disappearing into the comparative gloom of the ship. 

Expelling a nervous breath, Andromeda made her way back towards the stern of the ship. Although she was somewhat nervous to be alone, in a manner of speaking, her desire for fresh air and sunlight won out.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Mowett,” she greeted the amiable man who was standing near the ship’s wheel. She found herself somewhat disappointed to note that the cheeky Mr. Bonden was no longer at the helm. “Is it alright if I sit here a while and read?” she asked, not wanting to be in the way.

“Of course, Miss Price!” he replied with a smile. “Perhaps you might enjoy the shade that is to be had on the larboard side, just there.”

Andromeda looked in the direction he pointed and saw that there was indeed a corner of shade on the left hand side of the ship. At least that way she wouldn’t risk much of a sunburn.

“Much obliged, Mr. Mowett,” she said with another smile before drifting that way. Settling on the bench set into the back wall of the ship, Andromeda gently opened the book and began to read. Luckily, the book did have an english translation beneath the Latin, although she made it her challenge to read as much as she could in the original text. She was quite pleased with herself for being able to muddle through more than she had expected, after being out of practice for so many years.

Although the prose was a bit antique, it was still rather comforting to have such familiar stories at hand, and Andromeda became so engrossed that she scarcely noticed when the sun shifted in the sky and her shade slowly left her. She murmured the lines quietly under her breath, enjoying the feel of the words in her mouth. She could almost pretend she was once again a young undergrad studying for class on a campus bench.

“What is it you’re reading there, Miss, if you don’t mind me asking?” came a familiar voice from nearby.

Andromeda smiled and read aloud the next lines of text: “ _ Inde latet silvis nulloque in monte videtur; Onmibus auditur; Sonus est, qui vivit in illa _ .” Placing her hand on the page to mark her place, she looked up at Mr. Bonden, who stood just a few feet away.

“It’s from the story of Narcissus and Echo,” she explained, shading her eyes to look at him without having to squint. “Echo was a nymph who was cursed to only repeat what others said. She fell in love with Narcissus, who was beautiful but cruel. When he rejected her, she wasted away from grief until only her voice remained, which is why we call it an echo.”

The sailor frowned at the description. 

“Well that certainly don’t sound like a happy story,” he said. “Do all ladies enjoy such morbid tales?”

Andromeda shrugged.

“Classics students do. And anyways, karma gets to Narcissus in the end when he wastes away after falling in love with his own reflection, so I guess we can appreciate the vindication.”

“I suppose that’s alright then,” he responded good naturedly.

“You know,” Andromeda teased, parroting his earlier words back at him. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were following me.”

Mr. Bonden grinned in return.

“No, Miss,” he replied. “I’m on next watch.”

As if to prove his point, the ship’s bell rang out, signalling that it was 4pm. Andromeda laughed and shook her head.

“Well then, you’re off the hook this time, but I’ll be watching you, sir.” She gave him the universal ‘I’ve got my eye on you’ sign and tried to look stern, but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face.

“Of course, Miss,” the sailor responded cheekily, flashing his dimple when he smiled in return. “I’ll let you get back to your reading, then.” Touching a knuckle to his brow, he retreated to the helm.

Andromeda watched as he took the heading from the helmsman on duty and relieved him of his watch. She caught herself staring, however, and quickly looked back to the book in her lap, scolding herself for becoming distracted.

“Not the time; not the place,” she muttered to herself. 

She tried to distract herself with reading once more, but often found herself staring out over the sea or watching all that went on above her in the rigging or before her on the deck. Although she had never wanted or expected to see history so close to her, she still found herself fascinated by seeing it in person without the bias or influence of an author.

She easily passed another two hours this way before noticing that her skin had begun to burn in the sun. “I’m going to be a lobster before I get off this boat,” she muttered to herself as she stood, shaking out her skirt and tucking the book under her arm. 

With a short farewell to Misters Mowett and Bonden, she slowly made her way back below decks, offering smiles and hellos to any of the men she passed who greeted her with “Miss.” The Doctor was not in his cabin when she passed, so she slipped into her own and set the book gently on the shelf next to her own drying paperback.

She took the time to fold and organize all of her clothes and belongings, trying to figure out what she could appropriately wear while on board. The shorts were out, as was her sundress, but the tank tops, t-shirts, and blouse she could possibly use with her skirt. Her jeans had been ruined, but she also had her flannel shirt and denim jacket for layers, as well as a pair of sandals and her boots. She would have to return her borrowed shirt at some point, but perhaps the owner wouldn’t mind her keeping it a few days longer while she figured out a good rotation for her laundry. 

Humming to herself, she packed away the things she likely wouldn’t be using, like her bathing suit and shorts, into her backpack and settled it into a corner of her footlocker. She then folded the rest of her clothes into little piles and tucked her undergarments in between. Her toiletries and jewelry case she placed on an empty shelf before shutting the case’s doors that kept its contents from spilling out whenever the ship rolled. 

A knock sounded on her door just after the 8pm bell rang. Tonight, the Doctor informed her when she answered, they would be dining in the officer’s mess as was typical for most occasions. Stomach rumbling, Andromeda gladly followed him down to the deck below and into the mess. There, she was introduced to another midshipman she hadn’t yet met but had seen from afar on the deck, a young lad of about 15 called Peter Calamy.

Dinner passed much as it had the night before, with jokes and stories and a few more questions about the places she had visited, mostly from the midshipmen. Young Mr. Blakeney, whom Andromeda had met the evening before, was particularly curious and asked most of the questions, which she was more than happy to answer. She did ask him many questions in return, however, when the table broke off into sidebars, about nautical terminology and life on the ship.

The young boy offered to teach her about the ship and sailing the next day before he went on watch at 4pm, so Andromeda promised to meet him on the quarterdeck at 2 and offered more stories in return. It was nearing 10 once more when she finally rose, yawning, and bid the officers goodnight, assuring the concerned midshipmen beside and across from her that she could find her way back to her cabin just fine.

She did indeed make it back without incident and fell into her hammock after shucking off her clothes and wiggling into the oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts she had packed for pajamas with a completely different destination in mind. She lay for a while, staring at the wooden planks of the deck above her and just listening to the sounds of the ship, still not quite believing that this was her current reality. Her mind replayed the events of the past three days, particularly the plane crash, over and over again, trying to figure out if it could somehow all be a dream, until she finally fell asleep sometime after the bell rang 1am.


	6. There's A Boy In The Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda eases some suspicions and endears herself to the crew; who knew all it took was saving a life??

Several days passed much in a similar manner. Weather allowing, Andromeda would meet one of the officers on deck, usually a midshipman like misters Blakeney or Calamy, for lessons in nautical life and then spent several hours reading on the quarterdeck or telling stories to the young men and ship’s boys. On occasion, she even noticed a few of the older sailors hanging suspiciously close as she recounted tales of adventure. On the few days they met with rain, Andromeda would often join the Doctor in the surgery or his cabin, asking questions about medical procedures or discussing scientific ideas and discoveries. 

It was early April and Andromeda had become rather accustomed to life on the ship. Some of the more superstitious sailors still avoided her and threw accusing glares her way when she passed, but many of them seemed to accept her presence without contention and often greeted her when she was out on the deck. Having learned that many of them could not read or write, she offered to write letters home for them, which endeared her to a fair few for some men were more willing to dictate sweet letters to their wives and sweethearts to another woman rather than a fellow shipmate.

One afternoon, having been cooped below decks for most of the day by rain, Andromeda settled in to read in her usual spot for an hour or two in the daylight that was left. The deck was still slick with water so she brought a t-shirt with her to dry her bench before sitting, although it hardly mattered in the end, for not twenty minutes after she had settled in, she heard a loud splash and shouts of “man overboard!” Her head snapped up at the sound and she easily spotted the crowd of sailors gathering on the starboard side, about midships. 

“It’s Lofty!” came the next shout, and Andromeda was on her feet in a flash, dropping her book carelessly onto the bench. She darted to the gunwale and peered over the side, catching sight of the little brown head bobbing in the water, arms flailing helplessly. Someone called for a lifeline, but Andromeda knew they weren’t likely to reach him in time.

She leapt down the steps to the main deck, yanking the tie of her skirt as she went, sending it flying behind her in a sail of purple silk as she sprinted toward the group of sailors.

“Move aside!” she bellowed, sending them scattering as they turned to see her charging at them like a madwoman. Grabbing on to one of the rigging lines and hauling herself onto the gunwale, she caught the look of surprise on Mr. Calamy’s face when she blew past him and dove from the ship into the water below. 

Though it wasn’t a very far distance, the impact still shocked her a little and she had to force herself to ignore the water that went up her nose and stung her eyes. Surfacing with a gasp, she looked around frantically for the young ship’s boy and spotted him just as he went under several feet away. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the shiver of fear that raced down her spine at being in such deep water, Andromeda dove back under the waves and kicked hard to reach the boy who was slowly sinking. He had already lost consciousness, which sent a spike of panic through the woman as she kicked even harder and just managed to grab a hold of his arm before the pressure in her chest became too great to ignore.

It took all of her willpower not to lose her air as she kicked hard toward the light glinting off the water above her, head pounding and lungs burning. Her head broke the surface for a moment but she lost her momentum and dipped back under.

_ Come on!  _ She growled at herself.  _ One more kick!  _ Mustering her strength, she kicked the both of them above the surface, gasping for air and feeling a little lightheaded as her lungs greedily sucked in oxygen before coughing it back out. Pulling Lofty onto her chest, she rolled onto her back and drifted on the waves as best she could and tried to catch her breath and keep them both afloat.

It took her a moment to register the shouts from the ship nearby. She turned her head carefully to see that they had just passed the stern of the ship and were about fifteen yards out. She paddled tiredly towards it, grateful to see that it appeared to have come to almost a complete stop and that Mr. Calamy had been lowered over the side and was slowly making his way towards them on a lifeline.

"Catch the line, Miss!" Came a shout from the deck, and Andromeda lifted one arm to acknowledge it. Whoever tossed the other lifeline had brilliant aim, as the rope splashed into the water not far from her right side. She grabbed it and was relieved to feel a tug as soon as she wrapped it around her forearm, reeling her toward the safety of the ship.

She met the young Midshipman halfway. "I'll take him, Miss," he said, reaching out for the boy she held tucked into her chest. Spotting the secure lifeline tied around his waist, she carefully handed the child over and let herself be pulled the rest of the way to the ship, wrapping the end of the rope around her leg as best she could, as if she were simply doing a rope-climb in the gym. Thankfully, those on deck did all of the heavy lifting; Andromeda doubted she would have had the strength to climb all the way up otherwise.

When she neared the edge of the gunwale, strong hands grabbed her under her armpits and hauled her over the side. She wobbled on tired legs and was gently lowered down to her hands and knees, where she coughed and choked for a moment as the water in her sinuses drained down and dribbled out of her nose and mouth. Someone spread a blanket over her shoulders and rubbed her back as she wheezed past her constricted airway, but her attention was soon drawn to the limp body that was being laid out alongside her. The Doctor was immediately at his side, checking for a pulse and looking for breath, but the look on his face was not encouraging.

“He’s not breathing,” she heard him murmur to the Captain, who had knelt beside him, face grave.

Andromeda’s heart clenched in her chest. “Let me,” she rasped, throat sore from the saltwater and coughing, and crawled over to the boy’s side. Gently, she turned his head so that his face was turned towards the sky, and pinched his nose. She took a deep breath, distantly remembering the CPR certification course she had attended several years before, and covered his mouth with hers before blowing four strong breaths into his lungs. His chest rose and fell as it should, but he wasn't breathing on his own so she placed her hands on his chest, locked her arms, and began chest compressions.

She could hear the men around her muttering among themselves about her strange behavior but paid them no mind, focused only on trying to save the child before her. The murmurs only grew more restless after three rounds of compressions with no change, but Andromeda was determined. She was just starting round four when the doctor placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Miss Price,” he began to say, but was immediately interrupted when Lofty suddenly choked up a mouthful of water and began to cough.

“Thank god for that!” Andromeda exclaimed, slumping back onto her side, arms burning and eyes watering in relief. Shouts and cheers rang out across the deck as the doctor gently turned Lofty onto his side so he could safely regurgitate the water he had either swallowed or inhaled. Exuberant hands slapped Andromeda on the back as she sat there, panting lightly from exertion, and someone draped the blanket back over her shoulders.

She watched in a daze as Higgins gently picked the boy up and began to carry him to the sick bay. As she followed them with her eyes, she met the captain’s gaze. She could see a change in his perception of her almost immediately. A small smile crossed his lips as he approached her and offered his hand. Muscles trembling, she reached up and took it, though she needed the aid of a strong hand at her elbow to help her rise to her feet. Sparing a glance back, she saw that it was the large man they called Davies who had helped her. She murmured her thanks and offered him a small smile before turning back to the captain.

He regarded her for a moment with an assessing look before finally saying, “That was a brave thing you did for the boy.”

Andromeda shrugged tiredly. “Anyone would’ve done the same; I just got there first.”

The Captain shook his head. “In all my years at sea, there have been very few occasions where I have seen a man jump overboard to rescue a shipmate without a lifeline. The sea can be treacherous, even at its calmest. I have no doubt that we would have lost him if not for your actions.”

Andromeda smiled back. “I’m just glad he’s safe now,” she demurred, but the Captain and his men weren’t having it. A quick word to Lieutenant Mowett and Andromeda was hailed with three cheers from every man on deck. She blushed under the attention but smiled sheepishly at the men around her and lifted a hand in an awkward wave of acknowledgment. 

“Now,” the Captain said, placing a guiding hand on her back. “Let us get you to Stephen so he can make sure you are uninjured.” Andromeda thought to protest, but reasoned that it would be easier to just go along with it. Now that it seemed she was on the man’s good side, she would do her best to stay there. 

The crowd parted as they passed, and most of them men offered her a smile and the knuckle-to-brow touch that she realized was a form of salute. She smiled at them all in return, glad that the general attitude towards her presence on board seemed to have shifted.

On trembling legs, she carefully made her way down the steps to the sickbay, where they found the doctor standing over a hammock that held the young ship’s boy. The child’s face was peaceful but his eyes were closed, making Andromeda’s heart pang with worry. 

“He’s only asleep,” the man said, having noticed the look of concern upon her face, instantly easing her fears. She sighed with relief and allowed herself to be led to the now familiar operating table. The Captain helped her up, for which she was grateful, and the Doctor quickly took his place. 

“Are you in pain anywhere?” he asked, feeling her forehead for a fever and checking her pulse.

“No,” she replied. “Just tired, mostly. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.” When she received a questioning look in return, she flapped a hand and said “I’ll explain later.”

She reached up with the same hand to brush some sodden hair out of her face, but stopped short when the Doctor gently grabbed her arm. He pushed up the sleeve of her shirt, revealing angry red welts around part of her forearm and wrist; the rope lifeline had given her friction burn. The sight of the injury seemed to complete the signal from her arm to her brain because the skin immediately began to throb with pain.

“Ow,” she said, frowning at her arm.

The Doctor peered at her over his spectacles.

“‘Ow’ indeed,” he said, tone wry. “This doesn’t appear to be a serious injury, but I will bandage it to keep it clean and to help you remember not to aggravate it further.”

“As if I could forget!”

“You would be surprised,” the Doctor retorted dryly before turning away to grab some bandages. Andromeda hissed as he gently wrapped the abraded skin, but gritted her teeth and waited for the sting to fade into a consistent, but milder throb.

The Captain, who had observed the exchange, said to Andromeda quietly, “I fear I may have misjudged you, Miss Price.”

Andromeda blinked, surprised at the statement, and opened her mouth to respond. The Captain, however, held up a hand to stop her, just as he had done in the great cabin when they spoke of her situation on board.

“No matter the circumstances of your being here, I have judged you unfairly, and for that I apologize. You have proven yourself to be of fine character, and I am grateful to have you aboard.”

Andromeda was floored. From her observations, the Captain did not seem like a man who had to admit to being wrong very often, so she appreciated the statement all the more.

“Thank you, Captain,” she said when she was able to shake off the surprise. “While I appreciate the apology, I do understand your motivation. I will admit that the circumstances of my arrival here are pretty far-fetched, so I completely understand why you were suspicious. No harm done.”

The man gave her a small smile and clasped a hand on her shoulder before turning to inquire after Lofty’s condition. Andromeda was pleased to hear that the boy appeared to suffer no ill consequences of his near-drowning, but only time would tell for sure. After the Captain took his leave, she slid slowly off the table and gathered the now-damp blanket back around her shoulders, fully aware that her hair was still dripping wet and so were her clothes. She waved off the Doctor’s concern, telling him to focus on the sleeping child instead, and began her slow trek back to her cabin.

She exchanged pleasant greetings with many of those she passed along the way, but stopped short in surprise when she clambered off the ladder by hers and the doctor’s cabins only to see none other than Mr. Bonden waiting there.

“Oh, hello,” she said, a little confused. “If you’re looking for the Doctor, he’s in the surgery.” It was only after the words had already left her mouth that her tired mind registered that he was holding the book she had abandoned on deck in one hand and her skirt and t-shirt in the other. Stupidly, she blinked down at her legs and noticed that she was still only wearing her leggings and shirt, having torn off the skirt before jumping into the water.

“Oh,” she muttered and shifted awkwardly.

“I just came to bring these,” the sailor said with a small smile. “You left them on the quarterdeck.”

“Of course,” Andromeda nodded, reaching out for them, forgetting herself and biting her lip in pain when the movement stretched the burns on her arm.

Seeing the bandages, the man’s eyes widened and concern filled his expression. “You’re injured!” he exclaimed, looking from her arm to her face. “Are you well, Miss?”

Andromeda was touched by his concern. “Just some friction burn; I’ll be right as rain in a couple days,” she said, trying to play it off as nothing. “Besides, I’m sure you lads have worse all the time.”

He shook his head. “Only during storms, most times,” he said. “But never a lady.”

Andromeda knew he didn’t mean anything by it so she merely grinned and said, “This is nothing; check it out!” She stuck out her right leg and pulled up the edge of her legging enough to display a large shiny scar on her shin, almost 6 inches long and over an inch wide. “That was from doing rope-climbs and I got careless. Caught my leg all the way down, from maybe 10 feet up; took almost a month to heal properly!”

She remembered a moment too late that not only was showing so much leg a bit scandalous, but regular women in this day and age didn’t do Crossfit. She was about to throw out some sort of excuse to cover her faux pas, but the sailor only nodded his head with a thoughtful look on his face.

“Aye,” he said. “The rigging can be dangerous.” 

So he thought she had acquired the injury on another ship; she had no problem letting him continue to believe so.  “Anyways,” she said nonchalantly, “That healed just fine so this is no problem.” She waved her arm to make her point, ignoring the burn, and shifted awkwardly, aware that her hair was leaving a small trail of water behind her. “And thank you for returning my things; that’s very kind of you.”

As if he had forgotten he was holding them, Mr. Bonden started a little and looked down at the items in his hands. “Right, of course!” he said. “It was the least I could do; we’re all very grateful that you saved Lofty.”

Andromeda shook her head. “Any man would’ve done the same,” she insisted. “It was really nothing.”

The look on his face told her that he felt otherwise, but nevertheless he carefully handed over the book and clothes, which Andromeda tucked under her uninjured arm. He hesitated for a moment before saying softly, “We’re glad to have you aboard, Miss.” Then, with a quick salute, he was gone back up the ladder, leaving Andromeda staring in his wake, cheeks warmed by a faint blush.

She shook her head after a moment as if to clear it and made her way into her cabin, where she carefully shucked off her wet clothes and hung them up to dry on the line one of the carpenter’s mates had strung up for her the week before. Taking stock of her remaining dry clothes, she sighed. Her only options weren’t exactly period appropriate, but they would have to do. She settled on her full length cotton leggings and a tank top and tied the summer scarf she had brought along around her waist. It only fell to her knees, but it was better than nothing, she figured. She pulled on her boots, thankful she hadn’t been wearing them when she went overboard, and her flannel shirt on top for warmth. It was an eclectic combination, but she was beyond caring at that point. 

She made her way down to the officer’s mess for supper, where she was greeted warmly by those not on watch. It was there that she learned from Lt. Pullings how Lofty had fallen overboard; he was drawing water for the kitchen when he lost his footing on the rain-slick wood and fell. Andromeda made a note to herself to be more careful on deck after a good rain. Although appreciative of the company, she stayed only long enough to fill her belly and chat a few moments before slipping back to her cabin with a yawn and a wave.

Limbs heavy with exhaustion, she shrugged out of her outer layers and struggled to climb into her hammock without hurting her arm any more than necessary. It took her a good minute, but she finally got herself settled and fell asleep almost immediately, worn out from the excitement of the day.


	7. Beat to Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Acheron appears and Andromeda gets her first taste of battle.

A week later, Andromeda was jerked from her slumber by the sound of drums. Heart racing from the shock, she was instantly wide awake. The ship had beat to quarters several times since she had been on board so she was familiar with the sound and assumed it was merely another drill. She knew from experience that she wasn’t likely to fall back asleep after such a start, so she crawled out of her hammock and began to dress for the day. 

Yawning, she pulled on the borrowed shirt and her cotton leggings and was just reaching for her skirt when she heard a pair of muffled thumps in the distance, almost like thunder, followed shortly by the unmistakable sound of shattering wood. The decks above her came alive with shouts and hollers and Andromeda knew immediately that this was no drill. 

Insides twisting with worry, she swiftly changed course and tied the sash of the skirt around her neck and then her waist, creating a sort of apron that covered her from collar to knees. She stuffed her feet into her boots and tied them sloppily before twisting her hair into a haphazard braid over her shoulder. Running out of the cabin, she almost collided headlong with a sailor hauling gunpowder, but neither of them paused to excuse themselves before they kept going.

Andromeda was barely spared a glance as she hastened along the gun deck to the sick bay. She was somewhat surprised to see that men were already filling up the cabin and the sight of so many wounds gave her pause. She faltered for a short moment, unsure of what to do in such chaos, but squared her shoulders and continued on to the doctor’s side.

_ It’s just blood, _ she insisted to herself.  _ You deal with blood all the time _ .

The doctor barely spared her a glance as she approached; he was busy digging a large wooden splinter out of a man’s open wound.

“What can I do?” she asked, determined to be of use. “How can I help?”

The man turned to look at her over his spectacles and appeared to be on the verge of turning her away when several more men stumbled into the cabin clutching wounds. 

“Do you have any experience with wounds?” he asked her sharply, already turning back to his patient.

“Some,” Andromeda responded. “Minor ones.” She wasn’t going to tell him that she also spent a lot of time watching various medical and criminal dramas and picked up some useful information as that didn’t quite count as experience.

“Bandages are over there. Padeen can help you find anything else you need. Start with any that don’t appear to be life-threatening and I’ll see to them when I’m able.”

Happy to have a task to keep her busy, Andromeda hurried over to collect bandages, stopping only to ask Padeen where she might find something to cleanse the wounds with. Then, armed with supplies, she began to find the men who suffered only from cuts or broken bones, speaking to them in soothing tones and telling them that the doctor would see to them shortly. She hunted down some tweezers so she could pick splinters out of wounds and bandaged what felt like a million men before she was interrupted by Davies bringing in a man with a gushing leg wound.

“Doctor!” she shouted, knowing it was a serious injury, but the man was busy attending a sailor with a chest wound and did not hear her. “Aw fuck!” she swore under her breath, turning back to the man. “Lay him down here,” she ordered Davies, gesturing to the other surgery table. She hurried to grab more bandages and folded several of them into a pad, which she pressed into the jagged wound on the man’s lower thigh. He shouted in pain, arms flailing, and fisted his hand into the folds of Andromeda’s wrap.

“I know; I’m sorry,” she soothed, keeping pressure on the pad. “Just hold on for me; you’re gonna be okay.”

She was dismayed to see blood already seeping through the cloth and swore again, looking around frantically for ideas. The thought hit her when she spotted Davies, who was carrying in another wounded man, once more. 

“Give me your neckerchief!” she ordered the large man. “Hurry!”

Confused but obedient, he did as she asked and passed over the dark cloth, which Andromeda quickly wrapped around the top of the wounded man’s thigh and tied as tightly as she could manage. She pressed another pad of bandages to the wound and waited anxiously, but was relieved to see the blood loss slow to a trickle.

She barely had time to breathe, however, as she immediately spotted Lt. Pullings slumped against the stairs, left sleeve all but shredded and arm peppered with shrapnel. She tended to him as best she could, wrapping his forearm with fresh bandages, and moved on to the next man in the seemingly endless line. The sight of young Will Blakeney, who appeared not long afterwards, worried Andromeda the most, but she was only able to offer him a few kind words and assurance that the Doctor would see to him as soon as he was able before she was called away once more, this time to a young Marine who was bleeding from numerous lacerations on his head and face. 

It seemed like days, but could only have been an hour or so, before the cannon fire finally stopped. Andromeda paused to listen, anxiety spiking. Were they being boarded? Was everyone above decks dead? Her hands clenched around the bandages she still held as they waited for someone to relay the news.

A sigh of relief swept the cabin when one of the more able bodied Marines ducked in to tell them that they weren’t being boarded. That relief was short lived, however, when they learned that they had no rudder and hardly any sail, and that their escape depended solely on a fogbank and the strength of the gun crew who were rowing them to safety. Everyone was tense with worry, but there was still work to be done.

After the most urgent wounds had been taken care of, Andromeda hovered by the Doctor, watching carefully as he stitched and bandaged wounds, set bones, and administered laudanum. Although no doubt stressed and in need of a break, he took the time to explain every step he took as if she herself were a surgeon’s mate. She took in the information like it was her job; if she was to be on this ship for the foreseeable future, something like this could very well happen again. She had might as well make herself useful. 

As last, hours later, they were finally able to relax. All of the more serious injuries had been seen to, and the minor ones were checked and sent on their way. Andromeda tried her best to avoid looking farther down the deck where some of the uninjured men were carefully sewing the deceased into their hammocks. She distracted herself instead by talking with Will Blakeney, telling him stories to pass the time and take his mind off his broken arm.

She looked up when the Captain entered some time later. His presence was a bit of comfort to them all; if he had the time and presence of mind to check on the wounded, surely their situation wasn’t too dire. At the very least, they had made their escape into the fog and did not at present have to worry about being boarded by the enemy.

The captain nodded as he approached, taking in the sight of Andromeda’s bloodstained clothes with a raised brow. She shrugged. “I wasn’t going to sit around and twiddle my thumbs,” she muttered by way of excuse. The man shook his head with a small smile before turning to inquire after young Will.

“Just a broken arm, sir,” replied the boy bravely, although it was apparent he was in some amount of pain. Andromeda could tell by the look on the man’s face that he knew it was rather more than that, but he offered the boy a smile and a reassuring word before moving off with the doctor to discuss the toll of the day's casualties.

Andromeda finally retreated back to her cabin when Peter Calamy came to sit with Will. She assured the boy, whom she was starting to see as a little brother of sorts, that she would return later to finish telling him the story of Bilbo Baggins and the Lonely Mountain. Before returning to her cabin, however, she made a detour to the main deck to draw some water for washing. Once she stepped onto the deck, she stopped short, unprepared for the eerie sight before her. 

In the fog and moonlight, the Surprise looked like a ghost ship. The sails and rigging hung loose and in tatters and much of the gunwale and the masts were splintered and broken. Even the ship’s wheel had not escaped damage; a pang of fright shot through her when she remembered that it had been Mr. Bonden’s watch that morning when they were first attacked. She hadn’t seen him in the sickbay, but he just as easily could have been killed at the helm and left above decks. The very thought made her feel sick with anxiety; aside from the doctor and young Will, the slight coxswain had become her closest companion on the ship.

Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, she forced herself to carry on with her task instead of rushing to check if the man was alive. Feeling almost numb, she robotically hauled up a bucket of water and began toting it back down to her cabin, less mindful than usual of the water that sloshed over the edge. She was halfway down the ladder to her destination when a voice said from beside her, “Let me help you, Miss.”

Startled, Andromeda jumped almost a mile in the air and slipped on the next step down. She reflexively let go of the bucket to catch herself with both hands and couldn’t help the “Shit!” that slipped out.

Barrett had already been reaching up for the bucket, so that was thankfully saved with only minimal spillage. Andromeda practically slid down the rest of the steps to the deck and leaned her forehead on the wood of the ladder for a moment, taking in a deep, calming breath before turning to face the man with her hand pressed to her sternum.

“I’m pretty sure you just gave me a heart attack, Mr. Bonden,” she scolded, though there was no real heat behind it. She was simply filled with relief at the sight of him, alive and unharmed, before her. “That just took about 20 years off my life!”

The sailor smiled at her and opened his mouth to reply, but his eyes widened when he caught sight of all the blood on her clothes and likely her skin as well. 

“I wanted to make sure you were unharmed,” he said, stepping closer to see her better in the dim lighting. “Are you injured? Have you seen the Doctor?”

Andromeda felt her stomach flutter at the expression of genuine concern on his face. 

“It seems like this is becoming a trend,” she said, remembering how he had asked after her the day Lofty fell overboard. “I’m perfectly fine; I was helping the doctor in the sickbay all day.” She frowned at the thought, now no longer distracted by all the work to be done. “Although I’m not sure if it’s better or worse that this isn’t my blood,” she muttered, plucking at the crusty fabric of her clothes. “And whoever’s shirt this is, I don’t think they’ll be too happy with me; I’m gonna have to beat it on a rock to get this blood out.”

While the sailor’s expression had been one of relief when she stated she wasn’t hurt, it suddenly morphed into something akin to bashfulness.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Miss,” he said slowly. “It’s only mine; I don’t need it anymore.”

Andromeda felt her face grow hot; she had been wearing his shirt the whole time and hadn’t even known! “Oh,” she uttered, surprised by the information. “Thank you for lending it to me; I really appreciate it.”

The coxswain smiled at her again. “It’s no trouble, Miss.” Seeming to remember that he was still holding the bucket of water, he then asked, “Where d’you want this?”

Andromeda started; she had completely forgotten about the water.

“Right! Yes, it’s just going to my cabin; here...”

She hurried around him and pulled the door open, gesturing inside. After he set the bucket down, they stood in silence for a moment, neither seeming to know what to say.

“I’m glad to see that you’re okay,” Andromeda blurted at last, unable to hold it in any longer. “I saw the damage to the wheel on deck and thought the worst.”

The man seemed almost surprised by her concern.

“I’m alright, Miss,” he assured her, green eyes soft in the lanternlight. “Lucky for us, the Captain gave us warning in time.” He glanced towards the open door as if he were about to leave, but continued instead. “Lofty was awful worried about you after. I told him you were likely safe belowdecks but he wanted to make certain.”

Andromeda felt her heart swell with affection for the child. She had noticed him sticking around lately when he wasn’t on watch and was glad to tell him stories. She had even promised to teach him how to read while she was on board.

“That’s very sweet of him,” she murmured. “Please tell him I’m grateful that he was worried for me and that I’m perfectly fine.”

The sailor nodded and excused himself after another beat with a soft “Well, goodnight, Miss.” 

Andromeda followed him, saw him off with a farewell of her own and began to close the door. Something stopped her, however, and she glanced up to see him hesitate a couple steps away before shaking his head and disappearing up the ladder. After he was out of sight, Andromeda slowly closed the door and leaned her back against it, mind churning. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t fond of the blond coxswain, but something about his concern for her made her stomach flutter. She told herself that this was neither the time or the place for a foolish infatuation, but somehow the voice in her head didn’t sound remotely convincing. 

Shaking her head with a groan of frustration, she began peeling off her bloody clothes and began the arduous process of scrubbing blood from her skin and the cloth. She caught herself pausing while washing the borrowed shirt finger the worn material thoughtfully. Against her will, a smile crept across her face at the thought that the shirt had been Barrett’s, but she firmly shook her head as if to clear it and scolded herself once more.

_ Not the time; not the place.  _


	8. No Braver Patient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's recovery takes a turn for the worse and Andromeda learns that bored sailors like to gossip.

The next several days were a bustle of activity. Having patched and mended the sails and rigging as much as possible, the Surprise hobbled her way towards some rocky shoals in order to safely repair the damage from the attack as best as they could while at sea. The upper decks were a swarm of chopping, sawing, and smoothing wood, and Andromeda knew she would only be a hindrance rather than a help so she stayed belowdecks with the doctor, asking numerous questions about basic medical procedures and poring over his books on anatomy and medicine. 

While part of her knew that the medicine and medical procedures of the century could be largely ineffective at best, and harmful or deadly at worst, her knowledge of modern medicine was so limited that the books were essentially all she had to go on. She did put her foot down firmly, however, when discussing common treatments for such things as venereal diseases. 

“Absolutely not!” she exclaimed when the doctor told her of the use of mercury. “The only reason those men don’t die of syphilis is because the mercury poisoning kills them first!” She counted more off on her fingers, “Same goes for lead and arsenic and cyanide; absolutely not!”

Denouncements of toxic elements aside, Andromeda did learn a lot about stitching and bandaging wounds, how to properly set bones, and how to prepare simple (and hopefully nontoxic) remedies such as willow bark for pain relief and Peruvian bark for malaria.

 _How incredible_ , she mused, _that the people who don’t know that mercury can kill you have somehow discovered quinine in tree bark._

As the hands-on education of more complex medical procedures would require serious injuries, Andromeda had to settle for reading about them and asking questions whenever she needed clarification. When she wasn’t studying, she helped change soiled bandages and keep an eye on their patients for signs of infection. She almost regretted getting involved in the sickbay, however, just three days after the battle.

Andromeda had noticed a light sheen of sweat on Will Blakeney’s brow that evening when she was telling him the story of Frodo Baggins, having finished the Hobbit the day before. Concerned, she waited until he had fallen into a fitful sleep before carefully checking his forehead for a temperature. Her eyes widened at the heat she felt radiating from his skin and she immediately turned them to the bandage and splint on his right arm. The doctor had gone above decks several hours earlier to speak with the captain and had yet to return, so she was the only able body in the cabin save for Padeen, who was helping one of the more gravely wounded men to eat his supper.

With great trepidation, Andromeda slowly untied the bandage from the boy’s arm and lifted the cloth to peek at the wound and immediately wished she hadn’t. The skin around the injury was a mottled canvas of blue, purple, red, and green; she was almost reminded of the zombie movies she had seen, it looked so frightful. Nothing had seemed amiss when the doctor checked it that morning so the rapidity of the degradation alarmed her.

“Padeen,” she called, rising from her stool beside the boy’s hammock, “I’ll be right back.” She left without checking to see if the man heard her, clambering up the steps to the deck. Neither the captain nor the doctor were there, however, so she hurried along the length of the ship without even taking the time to greet any of the men she passed. She received a few confused glances as she bustled past clusters of sailors, but paid them no heed. 

The doctor wasn’t in his cabin either, making Andromeda swear with frustration. She repeated the curse with a yelp when she smacked her elbow on the doorframe on the way back out, careless in her haste. Frazzled, she tried the great cabin next, hoping she wouldn’t have to search every inch of the damned ship to find the man. Her knock on the outer cabin door must have been more frantic than she realized, because Killick yanked it open hardly a moment later, scowl firmly in place. 

“Is the doctor here?” she asked breathlessly before he had a chance to speak. “It’s important!”

The steward gestured for her to enter and Andromeda did so gratefully; now she was getting somewhere! Grumbling under his breath as usual, the crotchety sailor knocked on the inner cabin door before opening it, revealing the captain and the doctor in the midst of a discussion over what appeared to be sheet music. They looked up as she entered, mild curiosity transforming into a look of alarm when they took in her flushed face and flustered appearance. 

“Miss Price, are you quite well?” asked the Captain, dropping the papers he held onto the table.

“I’m fine,” she assured them, still slightly out of breath. “It’s Will; he’s got a fever and his arm is all sorts of discolored. I’m pretty sure it’s infected.”

Both men reacted immediately, moving around the table and straight for the door. Andromeda stood aside to let them pass before hurrying after them to the sickbay. Will was still asleep when they entered, brow furrowed with pain or whatever bad dreams he might have been suffering. Andromeda and the captain hung back as the doctor inspected his arm and checked his temperature. The look on his face was not encouraging.

When finished, he drew them away to the emptiest corner of the cabin and took off his spectacles before pinching the bridge of his nose; stress settled heavily on his shoulders. “I have to take the arm,” he said at last, causing the captain to sigh heavily. Andromeda felt a pang of sorrow; the boy was so young!

“I’ve done everything I can, but an infection like that will kill him in days or even hours if left alone. There’s nothing I can do, Jack.”

Although the doctor was surely used to such things, Andromeda could tell that it still weighed heavily on him even now. It couldn’t be easy to experience such helplessness for those who depended on him for their medical care. 

“I understand, Stephen,” the Captain answered surely, placing a bracing hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Lord Blakeney knows the dangers of the navy; he will come to accept it, given time.”

The boy may have known the dangers of the navy, Andromeda mused, frowning. Knowing and understanding, however, were two very different things. The doctor glanced over at the sleeping midshipman once more before saying, “It is best that I do this as soon as possible. I will tell him when he wakes.” He turned to Andromeda then, continuing, “Miss Price, I will need your assistance.”

The woman nodded. “Of course; anything I can do.”

He smiled faintly back at her. “I will have Higgins to assist with the procedure, but as it appears that young Mister Blakeney has grown rather fond of you, I think it will be beneficial to have you near to offer him comfort. This will not be easy for him, but your presence may help him bear it.”

Andromeda felt her heart clench at the thought. “Of course,” she repeated, voice catching a little. “Of course I’ll stay with him.”

The doctor nodded and turned away to begin preparing the instruments he would need. Shaking his head, the captain followed and spoke quietly to him for a moment before leaving them in the quiet of the sickbay. True to his word, the doctor calmly told young Will what was to happen shortly after he woke from his slumber. Andromeda saw the boy’s face crumple for a moment before he schooled it into something more like determination. Andromeda’s heart ached at the sight; the poor boy hadn’t truly been allowed the chance to be a proper child and here he was accepting such a loss with grace beyond his years. 

Will dozed again, this time under the influence of laudanum. Not long after he fell asleep, they were joined by Higgins and Peter Calamy, the latter of whom Andromeda knew to be Will’s closest friend on the ship. They gently lifted the boy from his hammock to the surgery table where Andromeda took her place at his left side. The confusion and panic on his face when he woke, disoriented, and realized what was happening broke her heart. She grabbed his hand and let him squeeze it as hard as he needed, murmuring soothing words of comfort. She gently smoothed the sweat dampened hair from his forehead, hoping that the gently touch would serve to calm him a little, as such things had done for her when she was a child. 

Thankfully, the doctor was not only skilled but quick as well, and the procedure was soon completed. Will’s thin shoulders shook with sobs and it was all Andromeda could do but to wrap her arms around him. 

“I have never seen a braver patient,” the doctor praised the boy quietly before beginning to suture the skin left over the stump and bandaging the wound. Andromeda continued stroking the boy’s hair, words gentle as she assured him that it was almost over and that he’d be healed up in no time at all. He was asleep before they were even able to move him back to his hammock, exhausted by fever, laudanum, and the stress of the surgery. 

She spent the night holding vigil at Will’s side, dabbing his brow with a damp cloth and keeping an eye on both his wound and his temperature. She knew from history that amputations were extremely risky business during the 19th century and was prepared to send for the doctor at the first sign of infection. 

Peter sat with her for a while, wanting to stay with Will, and Andromeda encouraged him to tell her stories about their homes and adventures on board. She learned that this was his third year as a midshipman and that Will actually was a Lord, having inherited the title from his late father. Shaking her head, she muttered that she would never understand monarchies. Still, she was grateful for the company until he was called to his watch at midnight. 

She spent the next several hours mindlessly reading the battered paperback she had retrieved from her cabin: a collection of trashy bodice-ripper novellas. It served as an excellent distraction until she started on the third story, realizing too late that the love interest was a dashing pirate who wooed a young bluestocking after boarding her ship. Face flushing, she slammed the book shut, trying to pretend that she wasn’t intrigued and that the plot didn’t hit a little close to home.

She distracted herself by dabbing Will’s brow and fussing with his blanket, but that only took so long for her to accomplish. The weight of the book was burning a hole in her lap. She managed to ignore it only enough to read the fourth and last story in the book, passing enough time to be relieved by the doctor, who came in just after 6am. He sent her to bed with a smile and a word of gratitude before carefully checking Will’s arm beneath the bandages. Yawning, Andromeda bid him adieu before shuffling back to her cabin and falling into a deep sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow of her hammock.

* * *

The bell woke her at noon and despite her eyes being gritty and dry with lack of proper sleep, she forced herself to get up so that she might not completely ruin her sleep schedule. She didn’t bother to change her rumpled clothes but washed her face and pulled her hair up into a messy knot before making her way to the officer’s mess for a bite to eat. 

She was disappointed to learn there that she had missed the doctor’s operation on old Joe Plaice, who had suffered a fractured skull during the battle that had cost Will his arm. Apparently the doctor had removed the shattered pieces of skull from the old sailor’s head and replaced them with a flattened coin. Andromeda was significantly impressed; it was a very modern solution way before its time. 

She did remember her promise of teaching Lofty how to read and write, so she returned to her cabin to grab her notebook and a pen, scowling at the paperback that she had tossed back onto the same shelf. Up on deck, she spent the next several hours having the ship’s boy copy out the alphabet in shaky, crooked letters several times, and taught him the ABC song to make remembering a little easier. Lofty was quite a bright young boy and remembered over half of the song and letters consistently by the end of the day, but she made sure to tell him that it still took practice and was ultimately a lifelong pursuit. 

“There are still words that I don’t know, and I’ve been able to read for over 20 years,” she told him with a laugh when he sulked at the news. “But you’ll get the hang of it in no time and then you’ll be able to learn all sorts of things from books and newspapers. You’ll even be able to handle your own legal business when you’re old enough for that sort of thing. When you can read, you don’t have to depend on someone else to do it for you.”

Lofty nodded seriously, appearing to have taken her words to heart. “I’ll work very hard, Miss Andi,” he said solemnly. “I promise.”

She ruffled his hair, making him smile and swat at her hand. “I believe you. Now, what letter is this?”

She spend a while quizzing him until it was time for his watch, letting him go only with the promise that they would practice more the next day. She stood from her seat with a sigh after he scampered off, twisting and bending from side to side to loosen the tension in her spine before making her way back down to the sickbay to check on Will before supper. When she peeked in, she saw that he was sitting upright and, although a little paler than usual, seemed to be doing as well as could be expected as he chatted with Peter and Mister Boyle, another of his fellow midshipmen. 

Satisfied that he would be alright for a while longer, she returned to her cabin to drop off the notebook and grab one of the doctor’s natural science books before heading down to supper. She spent a while discussing the merits of Chinese food with Captain Howard and Lt. Mowett, who were equal parts fascinated and put off by all of the dishes she described. It was just another thing she would miss if she ended up stuck there: the convenience and delight of chinese takeout!

After supper, she returned to the sickbay to sit with Will for a while. Joe Plaice was asleep in the hammock next to him and one of the carpenter’s mates, Joe Nagle, was keeping him company. He nodded at Andromeda but didn’t offer any other greeting.

“Hey bud,” she said, slipping onto the stool next to Will’s hammock. “I brought you this.” His face brightened a little at the sight of the book she placed in his lap. “I figured it probably gets really boring in here alone, so now you can at least read about,” she checked the title quickly, “ _The Travels of William Bartram_.”

She laughed at the less than enthused face he pulled. “Hey, it’s better than nothing! And I figured you probably aren’t into ancient poetry, so it was the best I could do.”

Will smiled back at her. “Thank you Miss Andi,” he replied. “I’m sure it will be better than staring at the wall, at least.”

Andromeda patted his knee with a grin. “That’s the spirit! And anyways, you only have to read that when I’m not here. Now, where did I leave off last time; was it the mines of Moria?”

She entertained him with the story until the bell rang 11pm and she noticed his eyes growing heavy. Pulling his blanket up higher, she helped him settle in to sleep, hesitating only a moment before bending over to drop a kiss onto his forehead. 

“G’night Will,” she said softly, taking the book and placing it on her stool. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Hiding a yawn behind her hand, she returned to her cabin, nodding to Joe Nagle on her way out.

* * *

The next day passed in much the same manner. Avoiding the still ongoing construction on deck, Andromeda stayed below and kept Will company, answering questions about things he had read in her absence or telling him more of Tolkien’s stories. She also changed the bandages on Joe Plaice’s head, suitably impressed by the doctor’s work and the way it seemed to be healing normally. 

When she returned to the sickbay after supper that night, she was met by the sight of Barrett sitting by old Joe, who was somewhat conscious but had yet to speak. The coxswain was quietly catching him up on the happenings of the five days he had missed in the sickbay but stopped short when Andromeda ducked through the canvas flap.

“Good evenin’, Miss,” he said as usual with a small smile that didn’t quite seem to reach his eyes. Andromeda felt her cheeks flush as her traitorous brain reminded her of the story she had left unread on her shelf. It was also the first time she had seen him in just his shirtsleeves, having become accustomed to the sight of him in full uniform at the helm. It took more willpower than she was willing to admit to keep from staring at the patch of skin exposed by the deep V of his neckline, although his neckerchief offered some respite. 

“Good evening Mr. Bonden,” she replied, shaking herself out of her distraction. “It’s been a while.” Indeed, it had been the better part of a week since they had last spoken; an accomplishment for those on such a small ship.

“Aye.” A peculiar expression crossed his face. “I hear you’ve been spending your time with the doctor.”

Andromeda was puzzled by his choice of phrasing. “Yes, he has been teaching me about treating injuries,” she said slowly. “But I’ve mostly been keeping Will company.” The boy in question glanced up from his book at the sound of his name and she flashed him a grin. “I’m going to run out of stories at this rate,” she teased before turning back to Barrett. “I’m doing my best to cheer him up and take his mind off his arm,” she finished in hushed tones as Will turned back to his reading.

The coxswain glanced at the young midshipman with a look of understanding. “I see.” He fidgeted with the wooden mug he held between his hands for a moment before clearing his throat. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, which she found rather strange. “You should know that there is some talk about it among the men. Your understanding I mean,” he said quietly, causing Andromeda to frown.

“My what now?” she asked, confused and unable to think of what sort of understanding he could be talking about. 

Barrett glanced around as if looking for someone who might overhear and lowered his voice, nearly whispering. “Your understanding with the doctor.”

Andromeda stared at him blankly. “You’re gonna have to explain that one to me because I am completely lost here.”

It was Barrett’s turn to frown at her response. “Are you not engaged? Nagle was certain there was an understanding ‘tween the two of you.”

As it dawned on Andromeda exactly what he was talking about, her jaw dropped in disbelief. It took her a moment to gather her wits enough to formulate a response to such a wild claim. “I think Joe Nagle needs to mind his business!” she exclaimed a little too loudly before remembering where they were. After looking around to see only Will pretending not to have heard, she continued in quieter tones, “There is absolutely no understanding between me and the doctor. I appreciate his company and tutelage, but we are friends and nothing more, and I would appreciate it if you could set the record straight among the men. The last thing I need is an angry wife or girlfriend coming after me because of bored sailors and their gossip!”

Barrett seemed to be fighting a smile by the end of her lecture; the familiar twinkle was back in his eyes. “Aye, Miss,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll spread the word.”

Andromeda nodded with a sniff before turning to perch on the stool beside Will’s hammock. “Good. Thank you, Mr. Bonden.”

Will looked at her curiously when she settled in beside him. “What was that about?” he asked, glancing between her and the coxswain.

Andromeda rolled her eyes and huffed. “Apparently the whole ship is under the impression that the doctor and I are getting married,” she scoffed, tossing her braid over her shoulder before adding hastily, “which we’re _not_ , so don’t go getting any ideas!”

The boy crossed his heart with a cheeky grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Miss,” he promised solemnly.

Andromeda eyed him for a moment before nodding. “Good. Now, we left off with Frodo and Sam leaving the others to continue their journey to Mordor, so let me tell you about the funeral of Boromir.”

They passed another hour before Andromeda heard footsteps behind them and Barrett saying, “He still hasn’t said a word, sir,” prompting her to glance over her shoulder. She caught the man’s eye for a moment, smiling unconsciously, before spotting the captain off to the side. He greeted her politely before turning to Will and doing the same. Andromeda was charmed by his slightly awkward but kind gesture of bringing the boy a book about Lord Nelson and her smile behind her hand until he made his exit.

She could see that Will was thrilled about his new reading material and sighed dramatically. “Well there he goes, upstaging me by bringing you something that’s actually interesting to read!” Will grinned at her, able to tell that she was only teasing. “Alas, not everyone has the fortitude to endure the thrilling saga of William Batman or whatever his name was, and whatever he discovered, etcetera etcetera,” she lamented, rising from her stool. “I’ll just leave you and Lord Nelson alone, shall I?”

She winked at the boy and leaned down to buss the top of his head, as was becoming her habit. “See you tomorrow, Will. Don’t stay up too late.” She caught Barrett's eye on her way out. “Not getting married!” she reminded, pointing at him. “Spread the word!”

The sailor smiled into his mug as she passed. “Aye, Miss.”

* * *

It wasn’t until Andromeda was laying in her hammock some hours later that it dawned on her why the conversation from earlier seemed so strange, and how Barrett’s mood seemed to improve after she told him that she and the doctor weren’t engaged.

“Oh!” she gasped, pressing her hands to her suddenly flushed face, mad at herself for jumping to conclusions. “You stop that!”

Still, she couldn’t get the thought out of her head and lay awake, stomach fluttering despite her best attempts to quell her emotions. Her last thought before she fell asleep was that she might just finish that story after all...


	9. The Wild Rover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Andromeda appreciates a good Dad Joke (you know the one) and gets a little tipsy.

Two weeks later, Andromeda was excited to hear that they would be stopping to resupply the ship’s stores at a port along the Brazilian coast. She washed and dressed for the day, buzzing with energy before it occurred to her that a port meant other ships. Her stomach dropped. Was she to be put ashore here to be handed off to the next ship bound for England or America? She had told the Captain that she had been on her way to Brazil; what if he left her there? She didn’t want to think that he would just leave her to fend for herself, but she technically wasn’t supposed to be on the ship anyways.

Her anxiety spiked. What would she even do in Brazil? She spoke decent Spanish but Portuguese was by no means the same. She fretted over endless possibilities, none of them good, before the ringing of the 10am bell drew her out of her reverie and reminded her that she had promised to take Will above-decks to see the traders and get some fresh air. The doctor had allowed it only on the condition that she keep a close eye on him and take him below at the first sign of fatigue or distress. The boy was healing well, but had yet to return to his full duties as his arm still pained him often.

Feeling decidedly less enthusiastic about the day, she slowly made her way to the sickbay to collect Will and escort him topside. They were met with an energetic crowd of sailors and tradesmen, but even the colorful sight wasn’t enough to lift Andromeda’s spirits. Still, she put on a brave face for Will and stuck close to his right side, acting as a buffer to keep anyone or anything from bumping his injured arm.

Eyeing the baskets of fruit in one of the boats below, Andromeda sighed and wished she had money to purchase some. It had been weeks since she’d had fresh fruit and the mere sight of it was enough to make her stomach rumble. Luckily, Will seemed content just to sit in the sun and observe the goings on, so Andromeda told him to sit and stay sat before setting off to bite the bullet and ask what was to be done with her. 

She found the Captain at midships only a moment later, standing beside the doctor who appeared to be in conversation with someone on one of the boats below. She cleared her throat to get his attention. “May I speak with you a moment, Captain?” she asked when he turned to her, brow raised.

“Of course, Miss Price,” he replied graciously, inclining his head. “Is something the matter?”

Andromeda winced, wringing her hands nervously. “No. Well, yes. Sort of? I wanted to know what’s going to happen to me, considering we’re at a friendly port?” She waved her hand vaguely at the traders around them.

The captain frowned at her question and glanced over the gunwale at the boats down below as if the connection hadn’t even occurred to him. After a moment of consideration, he turned back to her and said, “The choice will be yours, Miss Price. If you wish to find passage on another ship, I will not stop you from doing so.”

Andromeda’s heart leapt at the implication that he wasn’t going to force her off the ship. The Captain continued. “Or you may remain aboard until we return to Portsmouth, although I cannot guarantee your safety. As you have seen, life aboard a navy ship is full of dangers, although you seem to have handled yourself admirably thus far. Either way, the choice is yours.”

Andromeda didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll stay!” she replied eagerly, relief washing over her like a wave and draining the tension from her body. “I have to admit I’ve grown rather fond of life at sea, and it would most likely be easier to get my feet under me in England. Thank you Captain!” She bounded away, excitement returning now that the dread had lifted, leaving the bemused sailor in her wake. The man shook his head in amusement before turning back to the doctor and his conversation with the Portuguese trader. 

Andromeda was glad to see that Will had stayed where she left him and appeared to be doing just fine. She thumped down onto the bench beside him, leaning back and closing her eyes with a pleased sigh to bask in the sunlight.

“Doing alright, bud?” she asked without opening her eyes.

“Yes,” he replied. “It’s good to be in the sun again.”

Andromeda rolled her head around so she could peer at him through one cracked eye. “I know what you mean,” she hummed in reply. “I’ve been avoiding the deck so I wouldn’t be in the way of all the work, but it looks as if it’s just about done. How about we come up again tomorrow, if the weather is nice? Get some vitamin D and all that.”

When the baffled boy replied, “Some what?” Andromeda sighed.

“I just can’t win, can I?” she muttered under her breath.

* * *

Andromeda was slightly disappointed when the call came to weigh anchor; she hadn’t realized how much she missed the sight of mountains and trees and beaches. Either way, she had made her decision and she was happy to stay aboard, especially considering it put off the inevitable day that she would be alone in a strange world.

Shaking off the thought, she turned to Will and asked if he wanted to continue their story or head below to read. Choosing to stay in the sun a while longer, the boy listened eagerly as Andromeda recounted the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. She could see signs of fatigue in his bearing just as the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon and decided to call it a day.

“Alright, mister, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out what happens at the Black Gates; I think it’s time for supper and then bed.”

Yawning, the boy acquiesced, and she helped him stand before gently guiding him over to the ladder, still keeping a watchful eye on his arm to make sure he didn’t bump it. She helped him get settled into his hammock, smiling in greeting at Padeen, who appeared at his side moments later with a plate of food for the young midshipman. Once satisfied that Will was fine eating on his own, she left him to return to her own cabin, hoping for a quick rest before supper, which was to be held in the great cabin that night.

She stopped short a couple feet from her door, however, surprised by the sight of a small cloth bundle laying just in front of it. Puzzled, she approached it, looking around for a clue as to what it was and if it was meant for her, but finding nothing. Brow creased with confusion, Andromeda gently picked up the bundle and carried it inside, setting it on her hammock once the door was shut behind her.

The package was held together by a knotted shawl, which she carefully untied, ready to bring it to the captain or the doctor if it turned out to be something very obviously not intended for her, but let out a soft “Oh” at the sight of the contents within. It was ladies’ clothing! Folded neatly within were a brown cotton skirt, a cream colored blouse, two pairs of stockings and ribbon to tie them, two chemises, and a cotton dress of deep green.

Andromeda stared at them a moment, mouth agape. Someone must have purchased these from one of the traders at port, but whom? The captain or the doctor would have been forthright about it, she figured, but who else would do something like that for her? Surely such clothes would have cost a decent amount; she couldn’t imagine someone spending so much for her. She bit her lip, mulling it over. She felt bad accepting such a gift without giving anything in return, but knew that there was no way to return the clothes now that they had already left, and didn’t want to appear ungrateful by not accepting the gift.

After much deliberation, she decided to accept the clothes, but made it her mission to find out who had given them to her so she could thank them properly. Still, she couldn’t deny that she was extremely grateful; it did get tiring wearing the same outfit over and over again, and they took forever to dry after she washed them, which was often. 

Suddenly excited at the prospect of clean clothes, she hastily stripped her wrinkled skirt and shirt and slipped into a chemise, reveling in the feeling of clean cotton on her skin. She decided to wear the dress, pulling it over her head next, although it took some adjusting to get it to settle properly over the chemise. Not to mention, whoever the dress had been made for originally had been smaller in the bust area. Andromeda glanced down at her décolletage and almost laughed. It wasn’t quite indecent, but she was definitely showing more skin than she was used to; she would bring the shawl along with her just in case. 

Next were the stockings, which she pulled on carefully and tied below the knee with the ribbons that someone, likely the woman who had sold the clothes, had included. Thankfully, Andromeda had seen enough period films to have a solid idea of how they worked. Standing and shaking out her skirts, she wished she had a proper mirror. While the circumstances were never what she had ever imagined, she, like many young women, had on occasion daydreamed about dressing in period clothes and having her own Austen-like romance.

Shaking her head at the twist of fate she had experienced instead, she opened the cabin door prepared to head to the great cabin for supper, but the toe of her boot made contact with something hard, sending it skittering across the floor. Curious about what it could be, Andromeda bent over and picked up the item, which upon inspection turned out to be two hair combs tied with a scrap of blue ribbon. They were delicate things, beautifully carved from some sort of bone, and her heart fluttered at the thought of someone gifting such treasures to her. She was sure they had not been there when she found the clothes, meaning whoever brought them had done so while she was dressing. Holding them to her chest, she looked around to see if her benefactor lingered but saw no one.

Feeling incredibly flattered by such attention, Andromeda ducked back into her cabin. Pulling her hair loose from the braid she had tied it in that morning, she deftly twisted her curls into an elegant knot and secured it with a comb on each side. Eager to see the effect, she dug out her compact mirror and admired the delicate ornaments and the contrast between white bone and dark hair. Feeling immensely pleased with the result, she snapped the mirror shut and returned it to her footlocker before making her way to the great cabin.

As she walked along the gun deck, she noticed a few conspicuous nudges and grins from some of the men, making her suspicious that they either had something to do with it or knew who did. Flushing under the attention, she was a little relieved when she made it to the cabin, only to experience more of the same when Captain Howard loudly exclaimed how lovely she looked, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. As they all offered their compliments, Andromeda noticed that young mister Calamy seemed rather smug, as if he were holding on to an entertaining secret. 

“Alright, mister,” Andromeda whispered, leaning in when she was seated adjacent to him at the table. “What do you know?”

The young man tried to play innocent but was perhaps the worst actor she had ever seen. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss Andi,” he said, blushing horribly and avoiding eye contact. 

Andromeda huffed. “Uh huh, and I’m the Queen of England. I know you know something, now spill!” The poor midshipman looked down the length of the table, as if for some sort of rescue, but the other officers were all involved in their own conversations. She nudged him with her elbow. “Come onnn,” she prodded. “I want to say thank you and I can’t do that unless I know.”

He finally gave in. “Alright, I’ll tell you! Some of the men chipped in to buy you some proper clothes, as we’ve noticed you don’t have much that a lady should.” 

Andromeda wrinkled her nose at her clothes being referred to as improper, but didn’t push the issue. “I need names, Peter,” she said instead, nudging him again. The boy rolled his eyes and sighed.

“As far as I know, it was Davies, Bonden, Doudle, and Warley. I think Nagle and some of the other men tossed in a few shillings but didn’t want to make anything of it. Lofty wanted to help too, but we let him do with picking out with Warley instead.” Clearing his throat, he added in a mumble, “And Will and I pitched in a little as well.”

Andromeda felt a little overwhelmed at the number of men who chipped in to help buy the clothes; she had no idea that so many would be willing to help her. “And these?” she asked softly, reaching up a hand to gently touch one of the combs in her hair. “Who can I thank for these?”

Leaning back to look at them, Peter shrugged. “I don’t know, Miss; I only heard about the clothing. Lofty brought them to your cabin while you were with Will in the sickbay.”

Andromeda sat back in her chair, mind spinning. She had solved the mystery of the clothes, for the most part, but there was still one mysterious benefactor who apparently wished to remain anonymous even to his shipmates. One face came to mind, but she quickly pushed the thought aside; there was no point in speculating without proof. Either way, she only had time to whisper her sincere thanks to Peter before the food was served and conversation extended to their corner of the table. She was soon distracted as the topic made its way to Admiral Lord Nelson, having been prompted by Peter’s question about the Captain’s time serving under him.

Andromeda listened, fascinated, as the Captain recounted his anecdotes of his meetings with Lord Nelson; who knew the man had a sense of humor! On top of that, it was incredible to hear from people who had actually met a historical figure who had been dead for well over two hundred years by the time she had ever heard of him. When the men raised their glasses in toast to the Admiral, she followed suit, feeling strange sort of camaraderie with the men. 

When the Captain suddenly changed the subject to the weevils currently crawling near the ship’s biscuit, which Andromeda adamantly pretended were not there, the older officers shared knowing looks and repressed smiles that alerted her to the fact that she was missing out on some sort of inside knowledge. 

“Which would you choose?” he asked of the doctor, who replied that there was no discernable difference between the two weevils. “If you had to choose. If you were forced to make a choice; if there was no other…”

The doctor rolled his eyes and cut him off, “Well then, if you’re going to push me…” He put on his spectacles and leaned in to inspect the weevils and Andromeda could tell by the mischievous look on the captain’s face that the doctor had walked into a trap. “I would choose the right-hand weevil; it has significant advantage in both length and breadth.”

He and Andromeda both jumped when the Captain smacked his hand on the table in triumph. “There; I have you! You’re completely dished! Do you not know that in the service...one must always choose the lesser of two weevils!”

Unfortunately, Andromeda was just taking a sip of her wine when the Captain hit them with the punchline and had to spit it back into her glass to keep from choking when she couldn’t hold in her snort. She quickly set the glass down so as not to spill it as she coughed and shook with laughter; Captain Howard grinned at her from across the table as she subtly dabbed up the slight mess she had made of the wine. The poor doctor looked on in amused disbelief as the entire table roared with laughter.

“He who would pun would pick a pocket!” he chastised the captain but couldn’t hold back a smile of his own. “Really; Weevils!”

Still grinning, the Captain raised his glass in toast.

“To the lesser of two weevils!”

The table echoed him, still chuckling. Not long after pudding was finished, the sounds of a fiddle and pipes drifted down from the main deck, alerting them to the revelry taking place above them. Andromeda had often heard music from somewhere along the gun deck and from the great cabin, but this was the first time it seemed as if it were a real celebration.

Knocking back the last of her wine, Andromeda followed the Captain and the doctor above decks and was surprised by the sight of what appeared to be most if not all of the crew on deck. Someone was playing music and a few of the men were dancing and singing folk songs, making for a merry atmosphere. She was a little surprised to see Will on the quarterdeck in full uniform and made her way over to him.

“Aren’t you meant to be sleeping?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously, remembering his fatigue from earlier.

“I slept some after supper,” he insisted earnestly, looking up at her. “I feel much better now, truly.”

Andromeda shrugged, unwilling to argue. “If you say so. Just don’t party too hard; you still have to be up early for your watch tomorrow.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Yes, mother,” he said with a grin, causing Andromeda to narrow her eyes at him.

“Cheeky,” she retorted, wagging a finger at him. “Have some respect for your elders, kid.”

“Oh, I respect you loads, Miss,” he replied, barely keeping a straight face. Andromeda could see the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought a smile.

“Kids these days,” she sighed. “Don’t pull something there, Will; it looked like it hurt you just to say that seriously.” She flicked the brim of his hat down over his eyes, chuckling when he protested, and made her way down to the main deck, closer to the music. 

She had just stepped off the stairs when a familiar voice cut through the din. “Did you hear that?” Barrett exclaimed from his place beside old Joe, expression delighted. “He said something! Doctor! He spoke, Doctor!”

Andromeda glanced behind her in time to catch the pleased smile on the Doctor’s face.

“Well done indeed, Stephen,” the Captain praised quietly from beside him.

The mood on deck picked up again with the good news, and several of the men broke out into song. Andromeda smiled as she recognized the tune of ‘Spanish Ladies,’ and hummed along, but the moment quickly became awkward when Mr. Hollom joined in, causing the sailors to trail off one by one. They cast the midshipman strange looks as he finished the verse alone. He only seemed to realize his folly in the tense silence that followed and coughed awkwardly, smile dropping from his eager face. 

Andromeda winced at the awkward scene, although she didn’t quite understand why the sailors treated the junior officer with such scorn. She made a mental note to ask Will later before shrugging off the thought, listening as Will Warley quickly began another song. She was content to enjoy the music in silence, clapping along when the musicians started some sort of jig, but it wasn’t long before one of the intoxicated sailors dragged her into the spotlight.

“Come now, Miss Price!” shouted one of the Quartermaster’s mates, whose name Andromeda had quite forgotten. “Give us a song!”

The woman flushed as all eyes turned to her and began to protest, waving her hands as if to ward off the idea, but several others soon joined in, whistling and calling for her to sing. It was only the several glasses of wine she’d had with dinner and Lofty’s excited “ _Please?_ ” that finally convinced her. She threw up her hands with a huff and grumbled “Fine, fine!” before accepting Warley’s hand as he offered to help her up onto the capstan. Face flaming under the attention, she ignored the scores of eyes on her and leaned down to speak with the musicians nearby.

“Do y’all know The Wild Rover?” she asked, praying they did. “Is that popular here yet?”

Two of them shook their heads, but the fiddler grinned up at her, showing off a missing front tooth. “Oh, aye, miss; I know it.”

Andromeda smiled back upon hearing the lilt of his Irish accent. “Excellent! How about it, then?”

Wildly relieved that she had music to accompany her, she tapped her foot in time and began to sing, emboldened by alcohol and the wide smiles on Will’s and Lofty’s faces both. A few of the Irishmen on board sang along at the beginning, but the rest of the men were quick to pick up the chorus and were soon shouting and clapping along, nearly drowning out the music at times. 

They ended the song to thunderous cheers and shouts, with several hollers for more. Someone passed her a cup of grog which she drained in one go, suddenly realizing how parched she had become. A few of the men whistled as she polished it off and tossed it back down, cheeks flushed with exertion and alcohol. 

Her fellow musicians didn’t know any of the other songs she inquired about, so she coached them through a few bars until they got the gist. The fiddler was quite talented, picking up the tune in a snap and even adding his own embellishments as the pipes and drums took a couple more beats to follow suit. Andromeda cheerfully led them through three more pub songs before finally begging off, calling over the protests that they had all entertained themselves well enough before she came along and they could do it again.

She accepted Warley’s help once more to jump down from the makeshift stage, but leaned in close for a moment before releasing his hand. “I hear you had something to do with my new clothes,” she said, smiling as he shrugged bashfully. “I wanted to thank you; it was very thoughtful.”

The blond sailor ducked his head with a shy smile. “It weren’t nothing, Miss,” he replied quietly. “It were Barrett that thought of it anyhow; we all just found it proper to help.”

Andromeda was surprised by the revelation, jaw dropping slightly for a moment before she collected herself and smiled back, squeezing his hand before releasing it. “Still,” she replied firmly, “you didn’t have to do that, and I’m very grateful.” She looked over his shoulder at Joe Nagle, who was pretending not to eavesdrop. “I also heard there were some who wished not to make their contributions known, so I would be much obliged if you would pass on my gratitude.”

Warley nodded knowingly, following her line of sight. “Aye, miss. I’ll do that.”

Andromeda moved down the line to thank Davies, Doudle, and Lofty as well, ruffling the child’s hair affectionately before dropping down onto an empty crate next to Barrett and old Joe with a sigh, glad to be off her feet. 

“You sing very well,” the blond coxswain told her with a smile when she met his eye.

Andromeda grinned back at him. “You’re far too generous, sir,” she replied with a laugh. “My voice is suited for pubs and audiences halfway to drunk or more and that’s about it!”

“If you insist,” the sailor replied, smiling into his mug as he took a sip of grog.

“See?” she exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You don’t even try to deny it!” She sighed dramatically. “Alas, I’ve made my peace with it.” 

They watched the merriment for a while in silence before she remembered her conversation with Warley not long before. “I believe I owe you my gratitude,” she said at last, during a lull in the music. When Barrett looked at her curiously, she brushed a hand down the length of her skirt, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. “For the clothes, I mean. Mr. Warley tells me they were your idea.”

In the lantern light, Andromeda could faintly see the blush that turned the tips of his ears red. “It was nothing,” he replied, ducking his head slightly and avoiding her eyes. “Every lady should have proper clothes, that’s all.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Andromeda reached over and placed a gentle hand on his forearm, causing him to look up and finally meet her eyes. “It was very thoughtful,” she insisted softly. “Thank you.”

The man held her gaze for a long moment, seeming as if there was something he wanted to say before changing his mind and dropping his eyes. “You’re welcome, Miss.”

Andromeda watched him carefully for a moment, turning an idea over in her head before deciding to test her hunch from earlier. She sighed loudly enough to bring his attention back to her before reaching up to touch one of the combs in her hair. “I wish I knew who gave me these, though,” she said wistfully. “I should like to thank them very much; I do believe they’re quite possibly the loveliest gift I’ve ever received.”

She watched the sailor fidget with the mug in his hands out of the corner of her eye, blush spreading to his cheeks as he cleared his throat. “They suit you,” he answered quietly.

Andromeda turned to look squarely at him once more, waiting until he met her eyes again before saying seriously, “Thank you, Mr. Bonden.” She hoped he understood that she was thanking him for more than the compliment, as she was now certain that he had been the one to leave the combs at her door. She held his gaze for a moment longer before quirking a small smile and standing from the crate. 

“Well,” she said matter-of-factly, shaking out her skirts. “I think it’s time I turned in. Good night, Mr. Bonden.”

“Good night, Miss,” he replied quietly, a curious expression passing over his face that seemed almost like sadness, although Andromeda could not guess why. It struck something in her heart as she wove her way through clusters of sailors, lost in thought. What was she doing, encouraging the man’s flirtations, if that’s even what they were. She was in no position to offer anything more than friendship; she knew that. She knew that, and yet the thought of stopping left only the threat of sadness.

_ Everything will work out _ , she told herself as she prepared for bed, folding her dress carefully and placing the hair combs gently on top of it within her footlocker.  _ It will all work out in the end _ . 

Still, as she lay in her hammock willing sleep to take her, she couldn’t help but wonder what she wanted ‘working out’ to mean.


	10. Not Crazy After All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Acheron returns and Andromeda discovers that she's not alone. Sort of.

Andromeda was woken early the next morning by shouts from the deck above and footsteps pounding past her door. There was no beat to quarters, however, so she wasn’t too alarmed, but she still dressed in a hurry to see what was going on. She hastily pulled on the new skirt and blouse but forewent the stockings for her own socks in the sake of time. Once on deck, squinting in the morning sunlight, she understood the cause of the ruckus. The Acheron had found them again. 

The deck was a flurry of activity; all available hands were in the tops, unfurling every inch of sail the ship possessed. Knowing she would be of no use, Andromeda reluctantly retreated to her cabin where she tried to pass the time by reading but found that she couldn’t focus. The knowledge that the Acheron was gaining on them made her nervous about every little noise on the ship, wondering if the next was going to be the sound of drums as the crew beat to quarters. 

Frustrated, she returned to the quarterdeck just a few hours later, where she sat in the opposite corner from the doctor and tried to focus on reading there, but couldn’t help but glance back at the ship on their tail every so often. By midday, she had given up on pretending to read and instead allowed herself to be distracted by the construction project underway at midships. It was only just started, but she could see from the empty barrels around the base that it was intended to float.

She watched it take shape and was surprised to see it being fitted with a simplified set of rigging and sail. Frowning, she wondered if it was meant to be some sort of raft in case the ship was sunk, but it was much too small to hold enough people. It wasn’t until it was fitted with lanterns as well that it finally dawned on her; it was a decoy!

Andromeda hummed to herself, suitably impressed. Although the Acheron had closed much of the distance between them, they were still well out of range and the sun was already beginning to set by the time it was finished. In another two hours or so, they would all be under the cover of darkness and could then hopefully make their escape.

“It’s very clever,” she murmured to the Captain as he passed her on his way to speak with the doctor on the starboard side. “I’m sure it’ll work.”

The man gave her a small smile in return. “We can only hope, Miss Price.”

As the sun sank closer to the horizon, Andromeda sought out Lofty, whom she found sitting just in front of the quarterdeck, and coached him through another reading lesson. She didn’t have anything suitable for a child his age, but made do by pointing out easier words from her translated poetry and quizzing him on them. He was learning rather quickly and Andromeda was quite proud of how well he was able to understand new concepts and ideas. She challenged him with a little game, promising that if he could read ten new words for her, she would tell him a story before suppertime.

When the boy did just that, she found herself hard pressed to think of a good story. An idea struck her after a moment but she mulled it over in her head for a beat or two, humming thoughtfully to herself. “How about I tell you about the future,” she suggested, smiling down at him. It wasn’t like she had anything to lose. “What the world will be like hundreds of years from now.”

When Lofty nodded, eyes wide, she chuckled and leaned in to say, almost conspiratorially, “In the future, there are marvels you could only dream of! Buildings that touch the sky and ships a hundred times the size of this one. Everything is run by electricity, which is what lightning is made of. There are staircases that move so you don’t have to take a single step and metal carriages that drive themselves without horses. People can talk to each other from miles and miles away instantly, and fly in the sky in big metal birds called airplanes! Why, in an airplane, you can travel from New York to London in a matter of hours!”

The boy laughed at her, enjoying the wildness of her claims. “That’s impossible! No one can go that fast!”

Andromeda nodded gravely. “Not now, certainly, but the future is very different. Over a hundred years from now, some countries will be governed by women!” When Lofty pulled a face, she wagged a finger at him. “Now now, that’s normal in the future! Women will be doctors and lawyers, politicians and scientists, and even soldiers. They’ll fly airplanes and captain ships and even travel among the stars. In the year 1969, a man called Neil Armstrong will walk on the moon and everyone on earth will see it on little boxes that show you moving pictures of what’s happening all over the world!”

She smiled indulgently as the boy laughed again; of course he thought she was merely telling tall tales. “I see you don’t believe me,” she teased, ruffling his hair. “Well, let’s see if you change your mind one day when all of this comes true! I’m telling you, the steam engine is gonna be big. Now go on; it’s almost suppertime for you.”

She stood with a small groan after the boy scampered off, wincing as her knees cracked, and bent to pick up her book from the deck as a voice drifted over from the helm.

“A small step for a man and a great step for mankind; is that it?”

Startled, Andromeda straightened so quickly she almost smacked her head on the rail beside her. “What did you say?” she demanded, gaping up at Barrett, who looked down at her from the helm.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” he asked, face unreadable. “About the man who walked on the moon?”

Andromeda couldn’t believe her ears. Here she was, having accepted that she had somehow fallen through time and yet a sailor was quoting Neil Armstrong. “Are you joking?” she demanded, tears of anger and embarrassment pricking at her eyes. Had she really been so gullible? “It’s supposedly the year 1805 and you somehow suddenly have knowledge of the 20th century? Have you all just been taking me for a fool this entire time?”

Something akin to dismay crossed Barrett’s face when he noticed her tears but he had no time to respond as the captain reappeared on deck and commanded all attention. Andromeda shook her head and stormed back to her cabin, mind racing furiously. Once safely ensconced inside, she paced angrily back and forth in the cramped room, trying to make sense of it all. She went through everything in her head since the plane crash: her reception, all of her interactions with the men, and especially her time in the sickbay. It just didn’t add up.

Who would subject themselves to such a life at sea without modern medicine? And the Acheron, actually attacking and killing men, surely would not have gone unnoticed by modern authorities. Not to mention that statistically, they should have happened across another ship or airplane in her time aboard but certainly hadn’t. How then could Barrett know the words of a man who wouldn’t be born for over a hundred years? Surely he could not be like her: lost in a time not his own?

Andromeda turned it over in her mind until a headache began to form behind her eyes, but was distracted soon enough by the sound of distant cannon fire. Jolted from her turbulent thoughts, she waited with bated breath but heard no impact; they were still out of range. Shaking herself, the woman paced over to the door and yanked it open. She would get to the bottom of this, she decided, one way or another.

The sky was dark when she stepped onto the deck once more and sailors were in the midst of hauling the decoy ship over the gunwale to be placed in the water below. When she saw Peter being fitted with a lifeline, she knew that he was to be manning it and worried even though she knew him to be quite capable, following the raft along the side of the ship until she was back on the quarterdeck. There, she stood silently beside Lt. Pullings, wincing as two more cannonballs just missed the decoy.

Andromeda chewed nervously on a thumbnail as, one by one, the lanterns on the Surprise were doused and corresponding lanterns on the decoy were uncovered. Two more shots barely missed before the job was done but Peter was soon being pulled to safety, much to the relief of everyone on board. Higgins was there to drape a blanket around the boy’s shivering shoulders and the doctor promptly gave him a quick examination before deeming him healthy enough.

“Now tell me that wasn’t fun,” Andromeda heard the captain say to him before taking a place at the helm and correcting the ship’s course due East. She remained on the quarterdeck even as the other officers and spectators drifted away until only the Captain and Barrett remained. She shivered a little, pulling her shawl more tightly around her as she took in the eerie silence of the ship. Not a sound was heard from the deck as they sailed away and the woman found something unnerving about such silence alone on the vast ocean at night.

She watched the Acheron continue firing on the decoy for several more minutes before shaking her head and drifting slowly over to the helm. Andromeda would get an answer that night, one way or another. She leaned on the mizzenmast for a moment, watching Barrett hold their course, before speaking.

“It’s ‘One small step for man; one giant leap for mankind,’” she said quietly, making the sailor jump a little as she broke the silence. “How did you know that?”

He looked over his shoulder at her for a moment, expression soft as he regarded her. “There was a tramp in our town when I was young,” he said after a moment in equally soft tones. It took Andromeda a second to realize that he was talking about a homeless person. “We called ‘im Crazy Joe, ‘cos he spoke strangely and told stories about things that didn’t exist. My sister Mary loved listenin’ to him talk about metal birds called aero-planes, and horseless carriages, and of people who walked on the moon and flew among the stars. We none of us believed ‘im, o’course, but such things are not easily forgotten.”

Andromeda moved closer, trying to quell her growing excitement. That proved she wasn’t the only one lost in time! “Is he still there?” she asked eagerly. “The man who told the stories?”

Barrett shook his head. “He died several years past.”

Andromeda deflated, shoulders sinking as her one lifeline disappeared. “Oh.”

The blond coxswain cast a glance sideways at her, face unreadable. “Are you like him then, Miss?” he asked as he turned his eyes forward once more.

“What, crazy?” Andromeda shrugged. “I sincerely hope not. But I suppose stories of men walking on the moon would seem crazy to you all right now, so I guess it’s all a matter of opinion. Even so, being crazy doesn’t necessarily make one a liar.”

They stood in silence for a short while before she heard Barrett clear his throat. “I don’t think you’re crazy,” he admitted quietly, meeting her eyes for a fleeting moment before looking away once more.

Andromeda was surprised by the relief she felt upon hearing those words. A slow smile spread across her face as she studied his profile in the faint moonlight. “Thank you,” she said softly, hesitating for only a second before using his given name for the first time. “Barrett.” 

She bid him goodnight a moment later, suddenly feeling embarrassed as she considered the implications of such familiarity, and hurried back to her cabin. In her haste, she failed to notice the look of surprise on the man’s face, which turned into something akin to hopefulness as he watched her retreating figure.

As Andromeda lay in her hammock that night, the memory of how Barrett’s eyes seemed to light up his face when he smiled at her came to her mind unbidden, causing her to smile reflexively. She couldn’t stop the giddy feeling from swelling in her chest and covered her face in an attempt to regain her composure, but to no avail. Her last thought before sleep overcame her was that perhaps familiarity wasn’t so bad after all. 


	11. Whatever the Cost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chasing the Acheron has tragic consequences and Andromeda misses the comforts of home.

Will Warley was dead. 

Andromeda heard the news on her way back from the sickbay, where she had been sitting with a few of the men who were violently seasick from the storm they had sailed into during their pursuit of the Acheron. Fallen from the tops, she heard from Peter when she found her voice enough to ask what had happened. 

Hours later, she lay wrapped up in her hammock, shivering slightly and mourning the loss of the kind young man whom she had spoken cheerfully to just the day before. Melancholy set in as she thought of his poor wife, waiting at home for a husband who would never return. 

The day had started out well enough. Sunrise had revealed to them that they had come up on the Acheron’s tail as planned, which had been cause for celebration. It wasn’t long, however, before grey clouds enveloped the sky and rain began lashing the deck and those on board as they made their way toward Cape Horn. When the doctor relayed their position, even Andromeda, who had limited sailing knowledge, grew worried. She had once heard that rounding the horn could be dangerous even in calm weather; this pursuit must have been madness. 

Having absolutely no desire to be swept away by the churning ocean, Andromeda stayed belowdecks and thanked her lucky stars that she didn’t inherit her mother’s susceptibility to motion sickness. Throughout the day, several men trickled in for anything to remedy their excessive seasickness. Unfortunately, the most she and the doctor could do was offer them a ginger tonic for the nausea, which only helped so much. 

While she herself wasn’t seasick, Andromeda knew that reading with such violent motion going on beneath her would only make her so. The hours passed slowly, broken here and there by conversations with Will and Peter when they weren’t on deck, and learning the proper way to wrap different sprains from the doctor.

It was approaching evening when it happened, although the noise of the storm was so loud that they didn’t hear the sounds of breaking wood nor the cries of “Man overboard” from their place belowdecks. It wasn’t until Andromeda was passing through the oddly silent gun deck on her way to her cabin that she realized something was wrong. She would’ve passed off the listlessness and occasional sniffle as merely symptoms of exhaustion and the cold weather, but the grief stricken expressions on the men who bothered to look up as she passed sent a chill through her. 

She found Peter and one of the other young middies on her way to the officer’s mess and quietly asked the young man what had happened, fearing the worst. 

“Will Warley fell from the tops,” he answered her in equally hushed tones, looking exhausted by the day’s events. “The mast broke beneath him and the wreckage had to be cut loose or it would’ve taken us all down with it.”

Stunned by the news, Andromeda thanked him for the information, mind distant; she was horrified that such a thing could happen without their knowing while they were all safe belowdecks. Appetite suddenly lost, she changed course and closed herself in her cabin, not even bothering to change out of her clothes before falling into her hammock. The canvas bed swung more aggressively than usual due to the rough seas and the creaking of the timbers around her, making the young woman wish, not for the first time, that she had some sort of music player to distract her from the haunting sounds.

She lay, contemplating all of the dangers of storms at sea, unable to relax or fall asleep. How likely were they to sink? What if they hit a shoal or some other dangerous obstacle? If the ship did go down, would she have enough time to get out? All of these thoughts plagued her for hours and hours until at last she became too tired to keep her eyes open.

She slept through the calming of the waves and woke well after dawn to a sore throat and the warning signs of a stuffy head. Her pulse throbbed painfully at her temples when she sat up with a groan and cursed her luck. The last thing she needed was to get sick in an age where people died from stubbing their toe. 

She was reluctant to leave the warmth of her bunk but knew she couldn’t just lay around all day; she wasn’t  _ that _ sick. Wearily, she climbed out of her hammock and went through her usual morning routine of cleaning her teeth and giving herself a quick wash in the bucket of water that Lofty had left outside her cabin door while she was sleeping. She didn’t bother to change clothes, merely shaking out some of the wrinkles as best she could and covering her damp hair with a scarf to ward off the chill. If she put it up or braided the long mass, it would be damp all day, which would do her no favors. 

Slowly, she made her way to the sickbay, which was thankfully empty of seasick sailors and the buckets of vomit they left in their wake. She learned that there was to be a service for Will at noon and was suddenly reminded of the previous day’s events, sadness settling into her chest. The time until the service passed mostly in silence as Andromeda helped with stripping the hammocks’ bedding for the wash. 

The service was a solemn affair; everyone on deck was grave as the captain read from the Bible, and Andromeda spotted more than a few pairs of red eyes among the men. Head bowed in reverence, the young woman remembered the bashful smile Will had given her when she thanked him for picking out her clothes, and the way he had spoken so fondly of his wife when she found him writing a letter to her one afternoon. They’d only been married four months when he left her. Andromeda’s heart ached. 

As soon as the service ended, she headed back to her cabin, in part wanting to distance herself from the cloud of grief that hung over the ship as well as hoping a nap would clear some of the fogginess from her head and the heaviness from her chest. Her headache had grown worse and the sore throat had not eased, but two symptoms did not an illness make, she told herself stubbornly. It was just the lack of sleep and stress from the day before. She’d be right as rain in no time. 

Heaving a sigh, Andromeda mustered the energy to kick off her boots and strip down to Barrett’s shirt and her leggings before crawling back into her hammock and pulling the blanket up to her chin as a shiver wracked her frame. Just a quick nap, she promised herself, and she’d be perfectly fine. 

* * *

  
  


When Will Blakeney knocked on Andromeda's door that evening and got no answer, he simply shrugged and figured that the woman was resting; no one on the ship had gotten a decent night's rest after all. When she still hadn't appeared by midmorning the next day, however, the young Midshipman began to grow concerned. For all she enjoyed sleeping in on occasion, Andromeda had never been unaccounted for for so long.

When she didn't answer the door once more, Will tried the sickbay but she wasn't there either. Frowning, he retraced his steps though the ship, stopping to ask Peter and Hollom both if they had seen her; they hadn't. The boy's concern grew. When he caught the doctor as he was emerging from the great cabin, he figured the older man might be his best bet.

"I've not seen her since yesterday noon," the doctor told him, frowning. "There's not much done in the sickbay so I merely assumed she was spending time elsewhere today; she often likes to read on the deck."

Will shook his head. "I've been everywhere but the powder room and the bilges, sir. I don't expect her to be in either of those places."

"No, I'd expect not," the doctor muttered, beginning in the direction of their cabins. "Have you checked her cabin?"

"No sir," Will replied sheepishly. "I didn't want to be improper, and I assumed she was just elsewhere on the ship."

There was no answer when the doctor knocked on the door. "Miss Price?" he called through the wood. "Are you in there?" No reply. "Miss Price, I'm going to open the door."

The man gave it another few seconds just to be safe before slowly pushing the door open. He spotted the problem immediately. "Fetch Padeen, quickly!" He ordered the Midshipman, who obeyed without question. 

Andromeda lay in her hammock, pale and feverish. Her hair stuck to her face and neck, damp with sweat although shivers wracked her frame. Her forehead was hot to the touch and her lips were dry from dehydration. The doctor called her name again, patting her cheek, but she still did not stir.

Will returned shortly with Padeen in tow, and the doctor immediately ordered the loblolly boy to carry Andromeda to the sickbay while he searched the woman's trunk for a dry garment; hers were soaked through with sweat.

Andromeda was placed in one of the sickbay's hammocks after carefully being dressed in the dry chemise, away from prying eyes to preserve her modesty. The doctor had everyone but Padeen barred from the room until he could be sure what sort of illness the woman was suffering from. He wasted no time laying a cool cloth over her forehead and performing a brief exam. Her temperature was high, although not alarmingly so, but her lungs showed evidence of congestion when the unconscious woman gave a weak but wet-sounding cough. Breathing through her mouth indicated congestion as well.

Fortunately, there were no other visible symptoms such as a rash or lesions on the skin. With any luck it would turn out to be nothing more than a cold, albeit a particularly vicious one. Luckily, keeping up with the cold compresses seemed to be all it took to bring down Andromeda’s fever to a more manageable temperature. It was only a few hours later that she let out another weak cough and slowly opened bleary eyes. It took a moment for her surroundings to register, but when they did she was too tired to care overmuch.

She tried to speak, noticing the doctor sitting on a stool beside her hammock, but only a croak came out and she coughed again, this time clearing some of the mucous from her lungs. The doctor, having looked up upon hearing her chesty cough, noticed the sour look on the young woman’s face and, guessing the cause of it, reached for a small dish and held it under her face. Grateful, Andromeda weakly pushed herself up and spat out the offending phlegm, grimacing at the sight of the yellow-green goo. 

“Thanks,” she muttered hoarsely, falling back against the pillow once more. “How did I get here?” She closed her eyes against the throbbing pain at her temples and heard the doctor call for Padeen to fetch some tea before he answered her. 

“Young Mr. Blakeney grew worried when you were unaccounted for for several hours. We found you feverish and unconscious in your cabin.”

Andromeda sighed, a little embarrassed. “I thought I just needed to sleep it off; figures I’d come down with the worst cold in the history of mankind.”

The doctor smiled at her, amused by her dramatics. “You did give us a bit of a fright, I’ll admit. You’ve been isolated for now, but I’m positive it’s not influenza, as no one else on the ship is ill and it has been far too long since we’ve been at port.”

Andromeda coughed again, wincing at the bite of pain it caused. “I'm pretty sure it's just a cold,” she said, taking inventory of her aches and pains. “I've just never had one so bad before. Still, I'm contagious for about the next 3 days or so, so the quarantine idea is probably for the best.”

The doctor took her temperature again, glad to note that it was still down to a mild but manageable fever and changed at the cold compress for a new one. Not long after, Padeen returned with a tray of tea, a cup of which was promptly shoved into her hands. The corner of her mouth turned up as she thought of the juxtaposition of the delicate china cup in the room where she helped sew people's wounds not so long ago.

Taking a cautious sip, Andromeda was surprised to find it was some sort of green tea flavored with ginger. Unfortunately it hasn't been sweetened at all, but she forced herself to drink almost three cups before allowing herself to be taken again by sleep. She woke several times in the night, unable to breathe properly through her congestion and attacked by fits of coughing. The hours passed in bouts of fitful dozing leaving Andromeda feeling exhausted as though she had gotten no sleep at all. While her fever was completely gone by noon, her other symptoms only intensified.

By evening her chest was aching from the aggressive coughing and her breathing came in tired pants as though simply being awake was exhausting, and it was. She managed to choke down more tea and some thin porridge and found herself wishing for some chicken soup and a sports drink. She was also sure she would resort to causing bodily harm for even a teaspoon of cough syrup, and told the doctor so.

He had offered her laudanum several times throughout the day, which she adamantly rejected. “Hard pass,” she told the bemused man firmly. “The last thing I need is an opium addiction. I've been sick before; I’ll survive.”

And she did, although it was a long road to recovery. Will and Lofty wheedled their way into being able to visit her on the third day of her quarantine, provided they cover their mouth and nose with a handkerchief, upon her insistence, one of which she tied around her face like a bandit. Both boys were worried about her; they had been on ships long enough to know that illnesses usually did not bode well. She was quick to assure them that it was just a cold (true) and that she was already feeling much better (untrue). She was, however, glad for the company and got caught up to speed on what she had missed while sequestered away.

Apparently the ship had turned southward to avoid aggressive winds and it was so cold there was snow and ice on deck. Lofty even told her that a handful of the men were quite concerned about her condition, although they would never say as much out loud. Andromeda was glad that the handkerchief concealed her grin.

She listened with fond amusement as Lofty told her stories about his pet monkey, named Mango after he was caught eating some of the fruit they had brought aboard at port, and inquired about him politely as one ought. The boys kept her company for several hours, for which she was grateful. When they had to take their leave, Will got all the way to the latter before exclaiming “Oh!” and turning back around.

“I almost forgot,” he said, returning to Andromeda’s side. “I brought this for you in case you felt like reading.” He handed her a book which the woman accepted gratefully, touched by his thoughtfulness.

“Thanks, Will,” she replied softly, accepting the leather bound volume. “That's very thoughtful.”

She looked at the title as he was making his way back up the ladder and let out a large bark of laughter, which turned into a fit of coughing when the vibrations irritated her throat. Will's own laugh echoed behind him. 

The cheeky boy had brought her  _ The Travels of William Bartram _ . 

* * *

  
  


Andromeda was allowed to return to her cabin the next day once the doctor was positive it was merely a cold and not some other dangerous illness. For all she was excited about being back in her own space. she was still too tired to do much more than lay bundled in her hammock, drinking copious amounts of tea and reading in between naps.

She was just returning from a trip to fetch a fresh batch of tea, having insisted that being waited on by Padeen was unnecessary, when she spotted a small pottery container sitting in front of her door. Curious she set the teapot down on her footlocker and picked up the little pot.

It was small, about the size of her two fists together, and sealed at the top with some sort of waxed paper and twine. A peek under the paper had a smile spreading over her face. It was honey, and she had two guesses as to where it had come from.

Still smiling, she carefully spooned some of the honey into the teapot and took a small sip sighing with pleasure when the sweetness touched her tongue. Whoever had left the gift for her was a life saver; she even swore she felt better already

Two days and many pots of tea later, she felt much improved with only some lingering fatigue and a mild cough. As she suspected, neither of the boys had been the ones to bring her the honey, so she went with her gut.

“Will you do me a favor?” she asked Lofty when he arrived with a fresh bucket of seawater for her wash the next day. He nodded eagerly. “Will you bring this to Mr. Bonden?” She held out the pot of honey, on top of which she had placed a carefully folded paper crane. She felt bad about returning the gift with nothing much to give in return; the origami was the best she could do on such short notice. “I'm sure he will know where it came from.”

The boy delayed without a question, trotting off to deliver the pot. When he returned, Andromeda had a paper crane for him as well, which he carefully took from her with wide eyes.

“Would you like to learn how to make one?” she asked with a smile. He did indeed, so she spent the next hour showing him how to make every fold she could remember, starting off with a simple cat and ending up with the crane. She let him keep all of them, and he was more than happy to do so, and felt a rush of fondness for the boy when he bashfully presented her with the slightly crooked flower she had helped him fold.

“I'll treasure it,” she promised, beaming down at the boy who reddened under the kiss she dropped on the top of his head. “You'd best be off so you can put those away before your watch!”

* * *

  
  


The weather the next day was beautiful, so Andromeda decided that some fresh air would do her some good. Equipped with a book and a spare handkerchief, she made her way up to the quarterdeck, sighing contentedly when the warm sunshine touched her skin that was still a touch too pale from her recent bout of illness.

She nodded at the helmsman on duty and settled into her usual corner to read, stopping occasionally to blow her nose and wish not for the first time that Kleenex had been invented. She'd been enjoying the sun and the breeze for about an hour when a shadow fell across the page she was reading, prompting her to look up, shading her eyes to see without squinting. She smiled when she realized who her visitor was.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Bonden,” she greeted the sailor politely. He smiled back at her almost bashfully.

“Afternoon, Miss Price,'' he replied with a nod. “Good to see you feeling better.”

Andromeda laughed a little. “It's good to feel better, believe me!”

Barrett stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels a little. “Gave us all a fright, you did, when you were carried past.”

Andromeda frowned a little, knowing he meant when Padeen carried her through the gun deck on the way to the sickbay after she was found unconscious. “I didn't mean to worry anyone. I never expected I'd be so sick, I just thought I needed sleep.” She shook her head. “But I'm fine now, and it was nothing serious; just an unusually strong cold.”

He nodded, only looking half convinced, so Andromeda changed the subject a little. “I didn't want to presume,” she said gently, meeting his eyes and seeing a curious softness in them. “But it was you who left the honey for me, wasn't it?”

The sailor blushed and looked away. “Aye,” he confirmed, embarrassed to have been caught.

Andromeda smiled, heart fluttering despite having been almost sure it was him already. “And these?” she pushed, reaching up to touch the combs in her hair. He nodded, unable to meet her eyes, ears burning red. Another theory confirmed.

“Barrett,” she said softly, forcing him to meet her eyes. “These are the most thoughtful gifts anyone has given me in a very long time. Thank you, really.”

Cheeks still tinted pink, the sailor ducked his head bashfully. “You're welcome, Miss,” he replied quietly. “I'm glad you like them.”

Andromeda closed her book after marking her place with the scrap of ribbon that had been tied around the combs, smiling a little at the little memento. “Would you like to sit?” she asked the sailor, gesturing to the bench beside her. After a brief hesitation he nodded and sat, making sure to keep an appropriate distance between them. Andromeda angled her body to face him pulling her knee up onto the bench to sit more comfortably. Sensing that he wouldn't be the first to initiate a new conversation, she decided to do it herself.

“How long have you been in the navy?'' she asked, propping her chin on her fist. “I'm sure it's been quite a while, right?”

“I think it's about seventeen years or so now; since I was 15,” he replied, scratching his chin as his eyes narrowed in thought.

Even though she had been expecting a decent number, Andromeda was still surprised. “That's so long! Have you ever wanted to do anything else? A different career perhaps?”

Barrett shrugged. “Not much else I could do. My father was a farmer, so I could always go back one day, I suppose. There ain't much I can do without learnin’ though, so the sea’s the best place for me now.”

Andromeda frowned a little. “Say education or training weren't an issue. Is there anything then?”

He hesitated, blushing a little. “Well,” he said, almost as if embarrassed by the admission. “I do like learnin' about the birds and beasts we come across. Sometimes the doctor teaches me about them. If I could spend my life learnin' about them, that might be alright.”

Andromeda smiled, a little surprised by the revelation. “That sounds lovely. Can you tell me about some of the animals you’ve seen?”

And so he did. Andromeda was never much of one for natural science but she easily passed an hour listening to him tell her all about the different birds and sea creatures he'd seen during his years at sea. He had quite a wide range of knowledge and obviously enjoyed talking about it if the way his face lit up was any indication. In return Andromeda told him a little bit about some animal she had seen in her travels, like flamingos and the blue footed booby, whose name he got a kick out of.

She was just telling him about the time she witnessed an eagle carry off her neighbor’s little dog when the bell sounded the changing of the watch. Barrett sighed before standing, casting Andromeda a rueful smile.

“Duty calls,” she quipped, smiling back. “Thanks for chatting with me; this was nice.”

“It was my pleasure, Miss,” the sailor replied before touching a knuckle to his brow and leaving to man the helm. A minute later Andromeda stood as well, gathering her abandoned book, and returned to her cabin for a quick nap before supper

* * *

Three days later, Andromeda woke feeling as if she had never been sick in the first place, which may or may not have had anything to do with the fact that they would be reaching the Galapagos in just a few hours. Not even the arrival of her period, which had started the night before, could dampen her spirits as she bathed and dressed for the day. The excitement made it easier to ignore the deep ache of her cramps and the fact that she was using bandages as a makeshift pad, having run out of modern supplies the day before.

Men were crowded along the rails when she arrived on deck, all eager to see the famous islands. After a moment of searching, she found the doctor and Will on the quarter deck with spy glasses and notebooks, ready to record their observations. Andromeda watched with excitement as they drew nearer the islands; even from a distance they were unlike anything she'd ever seen. Pictures really don't do them justice.

She leaned over the gunwale, taking in the sights before her. The islands were jagged around the edges, volcanic and rocky but still sporting verdant vegetation farther inland. When she got the chance to borrow a spyglass, she spotted numerous iguanas, birds, and sea turtles milling about the shore, half listening as the doctor explained them to Will.

When they dropped anchor, the doctor hurried to gather the cages and nets that had once occupied Andromeda's cabin, but the woman knew his plans for exploring were dashed as soon as the captain spotted wreckage and a lifeboat of whalers nearby. She hung back, curious about the new arrivals but wary of what their presence meant for the Surprise.

It wasn’t long before the order was given to weigh anchor once more, so that they might set off after the Acheron, which they learned had attacked a British whaling fleet and destroyed the ship Albatross, from which the castaways hailed. At least 30 of the remaining crew had been taken prisoner. 

Andromeda sighed, knowing that the doctor would be terribly disappointed not to get his chance to explore the islands. She was disappointed as well, having been eager to set foot on dry land again, if only for a short time, and to escape the constant noise of a ship full of men. Even worse, the dampening of the day’s excitement only served to remind her of the cramps that ached from her mid back all the way into her legs. Grumpily, the young woman made her way back to her cabin, hoping a nap would ease some of the pain. She spent the rest of the day sulking in the small room, wincing at the constant barrage of noise from practice drills as the crew prepared for the next encounter with the French privateer. So much for peace and quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse errors and typos; I had this entire chapter handwritten and saved time by dictating it to my phone just to get it posted. 
> 
> I also had this plotted out before the whole Covid thing, but the short term quarantine feels a little close to home now...


End file.
